


Hic sunt Daemones

by bloodylullabies



Series: A Sliver of Infinity [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cameos from other fandoms, Demons, Gods, Mild Gore, Mild Language, No Smut, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 120,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23106397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodylullabies/pseuds/bloodylullabies
Summary: Evey, Walden and Tony attempt to rescue Sirius Black with the help of some of their immortal acquaintances.
Series: A Sliver of Infinity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660789
Comments: 52
Kudos: 1





	1. It's no use, Harry. He's gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This will make no sense if you haven't read Part I: My best friend and my best love.
> 
> Updates may take a while.

The celebrations that followed Voldemort’s demise lasted several months. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, who had been considered a hero since he was one year old, became a legend. He was invited everywhere. He was awarded honorific titles, and some of those were created specifically for him. He was the most acclaimed wizard of his generation – a phrase coined by the famous Chocolate Frog cards.

On the eve of his eighteenth birthday, Mrs Weasley threw a small party for him at the Burrow, where he lived for the time being. Compared to other events he had attended in the past few months, and would have to attend on the next day, this was indeed a simple gathering – and yet Harry couldn’t have been happier. His friends were here, his family.

The ones who had survived the Battle of Hogwarts, anyway. There was an empty seat beside George, and Tonks was clutching little blue-haired Teddy, Harry's godson, with a fierceness that would rival even that of Mrs Weasley. They had lost many good people that night, and many more in the years that had preceded the final onslaught of Voldemort’s army.

Selfishly, perhaps, Harry had hoped that some of these people would choose to go on as ghosts. How could Fred Weasley pass up on the opportunity to become a poltergeist, to haunt Hogwarts as Peeves did, to amuse students from the afterlife? Why wouldn’t Remus want to keep watch over his family?

But Fred wasn’t there. Remus had moved on. Dumbledore had a portrait at Hogwarts, but it wasn’t the same thing, was it? Dobby was gone. Hedwig, Moody…

All gone. But there was one person… Harry shook his head. Now wasn’t the time. Everyone was having a good time; even Mrs Weasley seemed to be a good mood. She was laughing at something Antonin Dolohov had just said. Harry didn’t think of the vampire as a Death Eater any longer. No one did. He and Walden Macnair were practically family now, just like Evey.

Ginny squeezed his hand. “Are you feeling alright, Harry?”

He smiled at her reassuringly. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her. Without Ginny, without Ron and Hermione, Harry would be nothing. People thought that he had single-handedly defeated Voldemort, no matter how many times he insisted that it had been a team effort, but Harry knew better. Without them, without the Order and its numerous allies, he would have died more times than was strictly necessary.

“I’m fine,” he said softly. “I’m just…thinking about everyone who’s not here.”

Ginny nodded sadly, glancing at the empty seat at George’s side. “Harry… What is it that you want to talk to us about?” He had requested a meeting, after dinner. There was something he needed to clear. Something he needed to do, and he was quite certain that, once again, he couldn’t do it alone. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not yet, mainly because he was afraid that he was getting his hopes up, and that everyone would think him mad – again.

“It’s…” He trailed off. “I’m sorry. I won’t say it’s not important, but it can wait until we’re done eating. I’m fairly certain that your mum made treacle tart, and I don’t want to ruin my appetite.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I do. And I will. But let’s enjoy ourselves for another hour or so, what do you think? Merlin knows, we deserve it.”

“It’s been pretty taxing, all the parading you around,” Ginny admitted with a smirk.

Harry flushed. He still hated being the centre of the entire wizarding world’s attention, but this time there was no avoiding it. Thankfully, Mrs Weasley soon entered the room, bearing Harry’s favourite dessert, and it wasn’t until late that evening that they finally gathered in the living room.

* * *

Evey glanced around the room. Sometimes she wondered how so many people could fit in the Burrow. Maybe Walden was right; it was possible that Mr Weasley used an Enlarging Spell when they had people over.

Most of the remaining members of the Order were here, except for Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was now Minister of Magic and really hadn’t been able to come down the Burrow that day. He was probably busy overseeing Harry’s birthday celebration – a very official ball was to be organised at the Ministry, with delegations from other countries. It was going to be the event of the year.

Antonin and Walden were sitting with her, as usual. She was happy that they’d all been invited today, but now she was truly dying to know what it was that Harry wanted to announce to them – he’d requested a meeting, and it sounded like something really important, considering how serious he looked. Evey was literally sitting on the edge of her seat, wondering what the big news was. Were Harry and Ginny going to get married?

Well, probably not. Ginny would be seventeen in August, but she still had a year to do at Hogwarts. For that matter, Harry, Ron and Hermione also intended to return to school in September to do their seventh year and pass their NEWTs.

What, then? Something to do with the few Death Eaters who had escaped, perhaps? No, that was unlikely. The handful who was still at large was being hunted down, and the others had all been brought to justice and were serving jail time in Azkaban – under the surveillance of wizards and witches, since the Dementors had been…fired? Returned to the hellish dimension in which they belonged? Well, Evey had no idea what the Ministry had done with the creatures, but they were gone.

She thrummed her fingers against her tea cup, feeling curious and anxious and impatient, but the torture was over soon: Harry stood up from his seat, and everyone stopped talking at once.

He cleared his throat, blushing slightly as every eye turned to him. “I would like to thank you all for coming today,” he said quietly. “Mrs Weasley, thank you for dinner, and thank you for having us here.” Mrs Weasley waved dismissively, but her eyes were bright. Harry took a deep breath. “As you know, I wanted to take this opportunity to talk to you about something. Before I do, however, there’s someone else who would like to say a few words.” He turned to Walden and bowed slightly.

Evey blinked. She knew about this; they’d been discussing it before coming over. In her excitement about Harry’s news, though, she’d pretty much forgotten about it. She flushed, feeling guilty. This was more important to Walden than anything Harry might have to say.

Her husband glanced at her, and she nodded encouragingly. This was not going to be easy for him. Walden hated to be the centre of attention. And yet, when he began to speak, his voice carried, and it was steady. “Thank you, Harry.” He had actually asked Harry’s _permission_ to speak today. That was how much of a big deal Harry had become. Thankfully, he was still the humble kid that Evey and everyone knew. He was handling his renewed fame with more maturity than Evey could ever hope to have, even if she lived as long as Malkoran. If she’d saved the wizarding world, she would have expected a golden statue to be made in her honour and her birthday to become a public holiday. At the very least.

“I have long wanted to say this. To come clean,” Walden said. “There never seemed to be a good time, but I don’t think there will ever be a good time.” Now that Tony and he had formally received their status of vampires, now that the world had been made aware that they were both, in fact, not quite dead, and that Tony had been awarded an official pardon, it did seem like the best time to do this, no matter how much Tony insisted that it needn’t be done at all. “Antonin did not kill both of Molly’s brothers,” Walden went on. In his usual manner, he did not beat about the bush. “He killed Gideon. But I…I killed Fabian.”

As expected, a long silence followed that revelation – although it was not a revelation to everyone. Mrs Weasley had known all along. After all, she’d been there when it happened.

When no one spoke, Walden continued. “I mentioned it to Kingsley when we went to the Ministry earlier this month, but he thought this should be acknowledged in a more…private setting. There was no need to officially charge me with murder and pardon me, he said. It would have been an administrative nightmare.” Poor Kingsley. They may have won the war, but he still had a lot on his plate following the Battle of Hogwarts. “But I figured… I thought everyone ought to know.” And poor Walden. He’d been carrying that weight for nearly two decades. No matter the reaction this brought, the burden was off his shoulders now.

George shook his head. “So you let your brother suffer the consequences of _your_ actions? All those years he spent in Azkaban… Well, to be fair, he would have gotten a life sentence regardless, but still…”

“It wasn’t his idea,” Tony said before Walden could respond. “At the trial, my name came first. And I…” He paused briefly. “When we were arrested, it was all over the news, see. And my mum, she knew we’d gotten ourselves in trouble, but she didn’t know the extent of it. Soon afterwards, she had a stroke. A bad one. The Ministry officials who deigned speak to us said she would never fully recover, and they gloated about it, saying it was our fault if she was… They actually seemed pleased about it. Like she somehow deserved it, when in reality she’d never done anything wrong. So at the trial, when it was my turn to speak, I just…told everyone I was responsible for both murders. That Walden had been under the Imperius Curse for months, that he couldn’t be prosecuted. I needed him to go free, you know? Couldn’t let Ma stay on her own.”

After another long spell of awkward silence, George sighed. “Alright, I see where you’re coming from, I guess. But I still don’t understand why you killed my uncles in the first place. Well, they were the enemy, sure, but… You knew them, right? And you were friend with mum and dad, before the war, before you joined Voldemort.”

“It was punishment,” Walden explained. “You’re too young to remember them, but back then, there was a family of great influence, the Zhangs. They were Chinese in origin, and they claimed to have imperial blood… Anyway, they were a prominent Pure-blood family but, much like your parents, they starkly opposed Voldemort. Unfortunately, he very much wanted them on his side. The old Zhang patriarch was a close advisor of the then-Minister, and his daughter and son-in-law both held high offices at the Ministry. They had to be recruited or removed, but in those days Voldemort was still trying to avoid taking such radical measures. He bribed them. Cajoled them. Made empty promises. When nothing worked, he moved on to threats. They thought that he was bluffing, that he’d never dare come after a family as powerful as theirs. They were very wrong. Travers gruesomely murdered their son. That got their attention, but even after they swore fealty to him, Voldemort thought it best to kidnap their daughter for good measure, in case they ever changed their minds.” Evey felt an unexpected pang of pity for Morgana. She’d really had a shitty life. It was a shame that it had to end as it did. “She was placed in our care – well, that is, she was sequestrated in the same room as us, except she was behind bars and we weren’t.”

“She was twelve when she was captured,” Tony took up the tale. “She cried herself to sleep the first night, but in the morning…” He chuckled sadly. “She demanded to be released. Said her father would come get her and kick our butts and we’d be sorry. She was fearless. And we knew that interacting with her in any way was a terrible idea, but we just couldn’t help it. She was very mature for her age, and wickedly sharp… Before we knew it, she’d burrowed a tunnel into our hearts.” He stopped talking then. She’d done that to him more than once, and it had ended badly both times.

“We helped her escape,” Walden murmured. “Luckily, it turned out great for her – she made it out unscathed, and Dumbledore kept her and her family safe until the war ended. Unfortunately, we weren’t so lucky. Of course, there was no way this could have gone well for us. The girl couldn’t have escaped on her own, so when they realised she was gone, we were suspected right away. Voldemort used Legilimency on us. Tony managed to keep him out of his head, but I…” He shrugged. “We always knew we’d get punished.”

“We never expected that sort of punishment, though,” Tony muttered. “I was ready for torture. The Cruciatus Curse. I’d suffered it before. Figured it was worth it, as long as Mo…as the girl was out of Voldemort’s reach and safe. But right until the moment we walked into that house, we had no idea… Then I saw Molly, and Fabian and Gideon…”

“Rodolphus promised that no harm would come to Molly if we killed the twins,” Walden said. “We had no way of knowing if he’d keep his word but…”

“…there was no alternative,” Tony finished for him. “If we hadn’t done it…”

“Mum wouldn’t be here,” Ginny said softly. “ _I_ wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, if the vampire hadn’t sided with Voldemort in the first place, we might have had cousins,” George pointed out. Had this conversation happened before the Battle of Hogwarts, Evey would have given him a piece of her mind, but he had lost his own brother during the battle. Everyone was very careful around George these days.

Except his sister. Evey had always liked Ginny; she was quite fierce, much like her mum, but in a more…brutal way. “I think he knows that he screwed up, George. No need to constantly rub it in his face. He’s made amends, for Merlin’s sake. Give him a break.”

“Easy for you to say,” George retorted. “You never knew our uncles.”

“You were a toddler when they died!” Ginny exclaimed. “Look, I’m sorry that I never got a chance to meet them, but we – no, _you_ have to move past this. It’s water under the bridge.”

George opened his mouth again, but his mother cut him off. “Walden, thank you. I know that this couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Thank you for not reporting me, back then,” he said in a low voice.

“It would have served no purpose,” she said firmly. “And I visited Antonin’s mother at St Mungo. She _did_ need you, Walden. Losing you both at once, it would have broken her heart.”

Of course she’d visited Tony’s mum at the hospital, the mother of the man who had just murdered her brother; that was just the sort of person Mrs Weasley was. Evey could never hope to be like her. She would hate Greyback until the day she died, even if he was dead, even if she died centuries from now, and perhaps even after that. That was just the sort of person _she_ was.

She caught a sudden movement in the corner of her eye; Tony had left the room. She stood up to go after him, but Walden held her back. “Give him a minute.” Evey hesitated. She was terrible at comforting people, but she hated the thought of Tony crying alone in the kitchen. Finally, she sat back on the couch. Loath as she was to admit it, Walden was usually right.

Ginny pushed Harry forward. “Now would be a good time to change the subject, I think. What is it you wanted to tell us?”

Interesting; even Ginny didn’t know what it was. Evey didn’t quite forget about Tony, but her curiosity was piqued again.

Harry took a deep breath, then stood up straight, facing them all. “I need your opinion, and your help, with something very important.” As he paused, you could have heard a mosquito buzz in the room. “I think that everyone here has heard the story of what happened to me in the Forbidden Forest that night.” There was no need for more detail; they all knew what he meant. They nodded collectively. “When I used the Resurrection Stone,” Harry went on slowly, almost hesitantly, “my parents returned briefly, and so did Remus.” He looked at Tonks, who smiled encouragingly. “At the time, I was glad for the company, and I didn’t think more of it – I had more pressing matters to attend to.” Several people chuckled. “Now, however, I wonder if there’s a reason why Sirius didn’t return with them.”

Quite interesting indeed. When Harry didn’t continue, Hermione spoke up. “Harry… We don’t know what happened to Sirius. We don’t know what’s beyond the veil. Maybe he couldn’t return, even with the Stone.”

“My point exactly,” Harry said. His eyes were bright with intensity. “We don’t know what happened to him, but the fact that he didn’t come back, even with an artefact as powerful as the Resurrection Stone, means that he could still be alive.” There was silence again as everyone stared at him. “He’s not dead! That’s the only explanation, don’t you see?”

“Harry, dear…” Mrs Weasley said gently. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Sirius is gone, Harry,” Tonks said. “They’re both gone,” she added in a murmur.

“There could be a dozen explanations for the fact that he didn’t show up in the forest,” Hermione said.

“But we don’t know what’s on the other side of the archway,” Harry countered stubbornly. “Maybe Sirius is stuck in some…other world. Like…you know, like Middle-earth. Maybe it leads to a different place, and Sirius hasn’t been able to return because…because the archway’s a portal, and it’s faulty.”

Most everyone looked uncomfortable, because it was obvious that Harry stubbornly refused to believe that Sirius was dead, and they didn’t know how to make him see.

Evey, on the other hand… “He does make a good point,” she said tentatively.

Now every eye was on _her_. Merlin, she really ought to think before she talked. Even Walden was frowning, and she caught sight of Tony peeking from the kitchen. There was a bit of dried blood on his right cheek. “I mean, we really don’t know what’s beyond the veil. But we _do_ know that there are other worlds out there.”

“Evey, if the Ministry keeps the archway hidden in the Department of Mysteries, it must mean that they’ve already experimented on it. They must have sent people through…” Mr Weasley trailed off, glancing at Harry. “I should think that, if they’d been successful, it would have been used rather than discarded.”

“Wouldn’t they have destroyed it, if it was truly dangerous?” Tony asked as he took his place at Evey’s side.

“Well, perhaps it cannot be destroyed,” Mr Weasley said.

“Can’t we just ask Kingsley about it? He’s the Minister. Surely he has access to all the knowledge of the Department of Mysteries now.”

Tonks chuckled humourlessly. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“But Evey’s right, we could ask him,” Harry said. “Tomorrow at the ball.”

Ginny sighed. “Harry… Even if Sirius is somehow…stuck on the other side of that thing, what can we do about it?”

“She has a point, mate,” Ron said. “Anyone who goes through would likely be stuck as well, wouldn’t they?”

“There has to be a way!” Harry insisted. He started pacing, hands behind his back. “I know he’s alive. I just _know_ it. We can’t just leave him there. I can’t abandon him. If I had gone through the archway, Sirius would have jumped right after me without hesitation.”

“And instead of losing one person, we would have lost two,” Tonks said, perhaps a bit harshly. “Harry, Sirius was a good man, but he didn’t always think things through. He’s gone. You have to let this go.”

“She’s right, dear,” Mrs Weasley concurred. “Sirius wouldn’t want you to go after him and risk your life on the off chance that he might still be alive, something of which we have no tangible proof.”

“I mean, it’s been _two years_ , Harry,” Ron added. “What are the odds that he would have survived so long, provided that he didn’t die right away?” Harry directed him an accusatory glare, and Ron lifted his hands in a defensive gesture.

“It’s pretty far-fetched, you have to admit,” Ginny said. Harry stopped pacing to frown at her, a hurt look in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I won’t allow you to do something even more foolish and dangerous than what you’ve already done. Harry, this would be a suicide mission.”

Harry sat down heavily beside her, head in his hands. “You’re right. I was just…” He exhaled slowly, his breath hitching. “I really thought I would at least get to see him one last time, to say goodbye,” he murmured. “When he didn’t appear with Remus and my parents, I assumed… I was hoping…”

Ginny put her arm around him. “It’s alright. It’s human to find hope in the smallest things. But in this case, it is misplaced.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Tonks said quietly. “There’s nothing to be done.”


	2. I could calculate your chances of survival, but you won’t like it

“What are you doing?” Walden asked Evey. She was ruminating in a corner of the library, a book open in front of her, though she was staring at it blankly. Nana was stretched at her feet, napping peacefully. It was almost dawn already, and they’d had a long night at work – two kelpies had been messing around with tourists at the Loch Ness during the day. That sort of thing happened at least once a year, usually in the summer, when the place was packed with Muggle cryptozoologists and would-be monster hunters.

“I can’t stop thinking about what Harry said,” Evey replied. “What if Sirius _is_ alive?”

Walden rolled his eyes. This again? She was becoming dangerously obsessed. “Even if he were alive, there’s nothing we can do about it, love.” He hadn’t dared state his true opinion on the matter, knowing that it would crush Evey but, as far as he was concerned, the reason Sirius had not appeared to Harry in the Forbidden Forest was because his entire being – soul, mind, spirit, body; the very essence of him – had disintegrated the moment he’d gone through the archway. There was simply nothing for the Resurrection Stone to bring back.

Evey worried at her lower lip. “Well, we could…send him a message, at least.”

“And then what?” he said patiently. “If Sirius had the ability to send messages, he would have, don’t you think?”

“How would we know?” she countered. “I doubt that the Unspeakables would tell us… And Kingsley already said that he had no idea what goes on in the Department of Mysteries.” She closed the book she’d been staring at. “I really think that Harry’s right, you know. There’s something out there, beyond the veil.”

“There could be,” Walden admitted reluctantly, though he didn’t believe it. “And that something could be some sort of endless, shapeless void, filled with the unwary souls of the dead.” Evey threw him a reproachful look. “There’s no way of knowing, V. And I certainly won’t let you jump through that thing to find out, if that’s what you had in mind,” he added sternly.

She blushed and glanced downward guiltily. Merlin! It was one thing for her to be reckless on the job – she was pretty much indestructible, sure, but still – but to dive into a mysterious archway that led gods knew where and very likely obliterated people out of existence?

“I daresay that it would be rather imprudent for you to attempt this,” a deep voice said.

Walden startled. They had removed most of the wards around the estate following Greyback’s (and Voldemort’s) demise, but he hadn’t heard anyone come in. As he spun around to identify the person who’d spoken, he couldn’t discern anyone in the room. As far as he could make out, Evey and he were alone with Nana. When he turned again to face Evey and ask her if she’d heard the voice, too, he realised that someone was leaning against the desk at which Evey was seated.

He was a man in his mid-thirties, not too ugly, tall and gloomy. Nana was sniffing at him in a curious but far from alarmed manner. The stranger petted her affectionately.

“Where did you come from?” Walden sputtered. “Who are you?”

Evey made an offhanded gesture. “It’s just Hades.”

The man smirked. “’Just Hades’? That’s cold, Kane.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry at all; she was smiling. “I meant: this is the Lord of the Underworld, His Glorious Maleficence, Hades.”

“I’m not maleficent,” the man – Hades – muttered.

Walden blinked. Wait a second. “Hades, as in…the god, Hades?” No fucking way. Was he hallucinating? Was this another weird lucid dream? Vampires were notoriously prone to those but, Merlin, he was tired of them. They were rarely pleasant.

“Yes,” Hades and Evey replied at the same time.

“So you two have…met before?” Walden asked uncertainly.

Evey carefully avoided looking at him. “Um, yes. Once.”

Walden groaned. “While I was in Middle-earth?” As if Malkoran hadn’t been bad enough. How many hot blokes had she met while he was gone? And why hadn’t she mentioned any of them? _Merlin, let this be another lucid nightmare, just a projection of my supposedly unwarranted jealousy._

“Um, no. You were just asleep,” Evey said sheepishly. She spoke quickly now. “I was talking with Tony – it was when we were trying to come up with ideas to help Harry, sometime in September last year – and I mentioned summoning demons or gods.”

Walden stared at her. That was probably the stupidest idea he’d ever heard. Was she drunk when she suggested this?

“Of course Tony said it was the stupidest idea he’d ever heard,” Evey went on, “and I was going to let it go, because his arguments made a lot of sense, but then this guy popped up out of nowhere.”

“You know exactly out of where I ‘popped up’. And, in fact, I was there all along,” Hades corrected her. “I merely chose to reveal myself to you at that moment.”

Evey exhaled in annoyance. “Yes. Whatever. Why are you here now?”

Walden had many more questions about this previous encounter, but it was probably a good idea to listen to what the…god had to say.

Bloody hell. A god. Here. This couldn’t be real. It didn’t _feel_ real.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your discussion,” Hades began to say.

Evey chuckled. “Right. There are billions of discussions happening in the world at this instant, but you couldn’t help listening in on us. Eavesdropping, really.”

Had she gone utterly mad? Walden had never dealt with gods before – nobody had, not directly, not in millennia, as far as he was aware, except Evey, apparently – but he was fairly certain that this wasn’t the appropriate way to address them.

“You are very entertaining,” Hades said simply. “Anyway. I was unable to help you the last time we talked, but I may be of assistance now.”

Evey scowled faintly. “How so?”

“That mortal you were wondering about…ah, Sirius, was it?”

Evey’s eyes widened. “You know where he is? You know if he’s alive?”

“To answer your questions in order: I do, and I don’t. I know where he must have landed, but there’s no telling if he’s alive. It’s unlikely, to be perfectly honest.”

“I don’t suppose he ended up in your domain…?” Evey asked, though she didn’t sound hopeful.

“Of course not. You can’t just portal to the Underworld.”

“So the archway _is_ a portal!” Evey exclaimed.

“A portal to where?” Walden asked. This was possibly the most bizarre conversation he’d ever had. Though maybe that was just because he was talking to bloody _Hades_.

The god considered this for a moment. “I’m not sure what you Overworlders call it. It’s known as the Shadowlands, or Pandemonium-”

“Pandemonium is only a myth,” Walden said reflexively.

“Oh? Truly?” Hades said. “Then I suppose your Ancient brother is equally mythical. And so am I.”

“I’ve never heard about this…Pandemonium,” Evey cut in. “What is it?”

For a witch, her Latin was surprisingly lacking, Walden noted. Indeed, the answer was pretty much in the name.

“To put it succinctly, it’s the Demon Realm. Does that give you a better idea of the sort of place it is?” Hades enquired with an arched eyebrow.

Evey paled visibly. “Yeah, I guess. Um, can you go there and fetch Sirius for us?”

Nana gave a brief, happy bark at the word _fetch_ , wagging her tail. Walden was tempted to use magic to temporarily mute Evey. Had she just asked a _god_ to _fetch_?

Hades didn’t seem to take offence, however. “I’m afraid it’s off-limits. It’s someone else’s turf, and trespassing is a serious violation to us mythological beings.”

“Whose turf is it?” Evey asked curiously.

“I’d rather not speak his name out loud. We wouldn’t want to draw his attention, believe me.”

“Alright,” Evey said with a disappointed sigh. “Well then, can we go there and retrieve Sirius ourselves?”

“You would likely die,” Hades said conversationally. “Honestly, the man is probably dead by now, anyway. How long has it been? Two years? More?”

Evey’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that? Merlin, how long have you been spying on us?”

“I’m not _spying_ on anyone, girl. Watching you is like…watching a reality show on television. It’s merely a way to pass the time.”

“That’s…very disturbing,” Evey said. Walden couldn’t agree more.

“Yes, well, most of what you people do is equally disturbing, if not more so,” Hades said defensively. “My point is that it’s unlikely that the man would have survived over two Overworld years in Pandemonium. Or even a day. Mortals generally don’t do well in that place.”

“But would Sirius have survived going through the portal?” Evey insisted. She would not let this go, would she? Walden had come to consider Sirius as a friend and had been sad to learn of his passing, but didn’t she understand that this was a lost cause?

“I don’t see why not," Hades said. "The portal itself isn’t lethal. The demons are.”

“Right. And, um, is there a reason, other than being dead, that would keep him from returning to our world on his own?”

Hades mulled this over. “I’m not entirely certain that it is a two-way portal,” he said eventually.

“But aren’t there other ways to-” Evey began to ask.

“There are,” Hades said. “It is my understanding that greater demons can open portals. And even lesser demons come and go as they please, do they not? Isn’t it part of your job to banish them?”

“I’ve…only had to deal with two demons over the years. In my entire career,” Walden said slowly. And it _wasn’t_ part of his job, in truth. He’d managed to trap them within a pentacle – with great difficulty – but expert Banishers from the Ministry had come to finish the job.

“Two?” Hades repeated. “Have you not hunted down rogue werewolves? Bloodthirsty vampires?”

“They’re not demons!” Evey protested.

“Of course they are. They have demonic blood. All of them are descended from the same two demons, which I shan’t name. You of all people ought to know this, child. Your brother-in-law is a demon, and so is your husband.” He paused. “You may be one, as well.”

Evey stared at the god in shock, and so did Walden. Malkoran had explained to Evey the story of how Ancients and Wolves had come into existence, but Walden had never really thought about it that way.

Evey shook her head in an obvious attempt at dispelling this disconcerting information. “If you say so,” she said dismissively. “But, hypothetically, it would be possible to get into Pandemonium and return to our world afterwards, correct?” Walden didn’t like where this was going.

“Theoretically,” Hades said. “But I would suggest you send in immortal demons, rather than regular mortals. Or people of dubious immortality,” he added, his surreal blue eyes intent on Evey. Walden frowned at them both in turn. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Ancients and Wolves,” Evey said, ignoring that last part.

Hades nodded. “Yes. They have a better chance of surviving and returning safely, given their…direct kinship with some of the locals. Though I cannot guarantee that even they would make it out alive. It’s a different world. Different world, different rules.”

Evey opened her mouth to ask another question, presumably, but Hades went on. “Even if this Sirius survived, however, he will likely be…changed. As I said before, mortals don’t do well in Pandemonium. None have ever returned, not in the same condition they went in, anyway.”

* * *

“I was right!” Evey gloated after Hades disappeared. “Well,” she amended, “Harry was right, and I was right to believe him.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” Walden demanded.

“Know about what?” she questioned him, her good humour melting under his accusatory glare.

“Anything, apparently!” he exclaimed. He started pacing. “Have you had other visits from creepy ancient gods? Or handsome immortal fellows?” He muttered something in Gaelic that Evey didn’t catch. “I thought we’d been over this,” he went on more intelligibly. “That we had a deal. No more secrets.” He turned his face to her. “Remember when we had this conversation three months ago, after meeting dear old Mal? Or have you forgotten already? Because I certainly haven’t.”

“Whoa, easy there,” Evey said. She hated it when he was like this. Some people wielded sarcasm expertly, with natural ease, but Walden wasn’t one of them. He just sounded mean.

And how could she forget? For a few hours, she’d seriously wondered if she’d accidentally doomed her marriage. When Walden had awakened the night after the Battle of Hogwarts, he’d been angrier than she’d ever seen him before, ranting about Malkoran, about Tony and Greyback, none of it making much sense to her. It had taken a long time for him to calm down and agree to have a civilised, mature conversation.

“Are you seriously focusing on the Hades part of what happened?” she went on. “He just told us that Sirius is still alive!”

Walden scoffed. “That is _not_ what I heard him say. And I’m sorry, but it is my first time encountering a god and it _is_ a fucking big deal to me! How could you keep this from me, V? Don’t you realise how exhausting it is, to keep track of everything you have lied about and to constantly have to wonder what you _are_ lying about? Like…what the hell did he mean by ‘people of dubious immortality’?” Evey opened her mouth to try to explain, but he spoke right over her. “More importantly, why does Tony seem to know everything and not me? If you trust him more than me, maybe you should marry _him_.”

He finally stopped talking, but Evey was too shocked to protest. In any case, he was already storming off.

What did Tony have to do with any of this? He’d just happened to be there when Hades had first visited her, but that was hardly Evey’s fault. Or Tony’s, for that matter. And speaking of the devil…

“What did we say about handling these situations?” Tony asked with a trace of reproach. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

“That I should put myself in Walden’s shoes,” Evey mumbled.

“Well?” he prompted her.

Evey shrugged. “If he’d been the one to meet Hades, I’d be too excited and curious to be angry.”

Tony tsked and moved closer to her. “Not good enough. Forget about the whole Sirius business for a moment and picture this: Aphrodite visited Walden while you were captive in Asgard. He never told you about it. Suddenly she reappears while you’re here, they greet each other familiarly and she mentions something quite important and personal about Walden that you didn’t know yourself. How would you have reacted to _that_?”

Evey pretended to think it over for a minute, but there was only one possible answer and they both knew it. “I would have punched her in the face,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Much better. Now, what else did we talk about?”

Evey glared at her feet, feeling guilty and embarrassed. “I shouldn’t keep secrets from my husband. And I especially shouldn’t keep secrets from him that I don’t keep from you, otherwise you will have to leave.”

“Otherwise I will have to leave _or_ it will end your marriage,” Tony corrected her. "Or both."

“I know, alright?” Evey exclaimed. “But it’s not like what happened with Mal, honestly. This wasn’t about keeping Hades a secret. I was freaking out about being immortal, Tony. I still am.”

“Evey, for the thousandth time, Walden is your husband,” Tony said. “If you don’t feel comfortable freaking out around him, why are you even married to him? That’s what spouses are for – to reassure you, to tell you everything will be alright and that they’ll always be there for you no matter what. That should be Walden’s job, not mine.”

Evey glanced at him. “So you have no interest in reassuring me, and you won’t always be there for me no matter what?”

She meant it as a joke, but he seemed to take it very seriously. “I… Of course I’m here for you. But Walden should always come first.” He paused, looking at her uncertainly. “You heard what he said, V. That last part?” She nodded. It had shocked her to her core to hear Walden say that. Did he really believe that she’d rather be married to Tony? He couldn’t possibly be jealous of his own brother. She didn’t think of Tony like that. She just felt more comfortable…

Ugh. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She felt more comfortable discussing sensible topics with Tony than with Walden. She didn’t know why. She’d never had a best friend before. She simply assumed that was what being best friends entailed: telling each other everything.

“I love him,” she said softly. “I really do. I don’t know why I keep doing this to him. I don’t mean to be hurtful.”

“That brings us back to the same old question again: should I just leave?” Tony said. “If I’m not around, you’ll _have_ to talk to Walden whenever something like this happens.”

Or she could just keep it to herself, or call Tony on the phone. She didn’t say that aloud, though. “You would leave, after what we just learned? I assume you heard most of our conversation with Hades.” Tony frowned. “Sirius?” she reminded him. “The Demon Realm only being accessible to demonic, immortal beings? I’d go alone, but…”

“Whoa,” he cut her off. “You’re not going anywhere, missy. We don’t know for certain that you’re…like me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But you do have a point. If there’s even the slimmest chance that Sirius survived… If he’s out there, somewhere, waiting to be rescued… I should go.” He chuckled suddenly. “It’ll give you some time alone with Walden, to fill him in on everything you may have…omitted.”

Evey chose to ignore that remark. “You can’t go alone, though, not to a place called the Demon Realm.” She sighed. “I wish Ted were here. He’d love that. I’ll send him yet another message, just in case.”

“I could go to Middle-earth first,” Tony suggested.

“No, Sirius should be our priority, and if you went to Middle-earth, you'd be gone for weeks. Ted is less likely to be in real trouble. Maybe we should contact Alice, though?”

“She’s on her honeymoon,” Tony reminded her. “I doubt she’ll appreciate the disturbance.”

Right. Alice and Silver’s improbable romance had been a whirlwind. Barely two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, they’d decided to get married. A week after that, it was done, and now they were travelling the world together. They were an insanely cute couple. Alice was behaving like a smitten young woman, and Silver was much more open and talkative than usual.

“Ugh. Then maybe I should call…” Malkoran, she wanted to say. Mal would help her if she asked, surely. The Bloodmother was still on a retreat, so he had nothing better to do with his life. But she couldn’t hope to get Walden on board with this – at this point, she barely hoped to convince him that the whole thing was a good idea.

“Malkoran is our best shot,” Tony said as though he’d read her mind. “It’s not like Walden and he will have to interact anyway. Mal will accompany me, Walden will stay here with you.”

“I guess you’re right, but I’d feel better if another Ancient went with you.” Not that she didn’t trust Mal, but it might alleviate Walden’s suspicions, at least. “What about Gorgo? Imhotep?”

“They’re in Sudan, working for some charity, building schools and stuff.”

_Bless their dead little hearts_ , Evey thought wryly. Why weren’t they available when she needed them? Building schools could wait. Sirius couldn’t. “Er…I don’t really know any of the others,” she admitted. “Anyone you think might be willing to help us out?”

Tony considered it for a minute. “Problem is, they have their own lives, and most of them live pretty far away, except for the one who has to keep an eye on the Infernal Trio.” They took shifts guarding them, now that the Mother was gone, but it often fell to Darya the Crazy Russian Lady (whose actual surname Evey couldn’t pronounce) to do it. Tony hesitated. “We could ask the Ripper, I suppose. She won’t agree for the sake of helping us or saving Sirius, but she might be lured into it, if we promise her an adventure in a world teeming with deadly demons. She’s weird like that.”

Evey brightened. She’d been dying to get better acquainted with the rest of the Ancients – except those who wanted her dead – but the Ripper was particularly fascinating. Why did she become a serial killer? Did she have a tragic backstory? What was her name? How did she feel about the speculation that surrounded the mystery of Jack the Ripper?

“Do you have a way of getting in touch with her?” Tony nodded. “Brilliant. All that’s left to do is persuade Walden, firstly, that I do wish to stay married to him; secondly, that I’m not keeping anything else from him and, thirdly, that I need Malkoran to help us out in this near-suicidal endeavour.” She’d also have to tell him that she might be immortal and not him, according to Hades. She was decidedly not looking forward to this conversation, which would likely turn into an argument at some point. How could he believe that she didn't trust him? It had nothing to do with trust; she was merely trying to protect him. She hoped she could make him see that.

Tony clasped her shoulder fatalistically. “You do that while I deal with the psychopathic vampire who despises me. Have fun.”


	3. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing

The modern Muggle doorbell rang and Evey rushed to welcome their first guest. She was brimming with excitement. Walden followed behind her at a much slower pace. He disapproved entirely, Evey could tell, but she was confident that the others would make him see sense.

The tall, lean man who waited patiently on the other side of the door smiled when Evey opened it. “Mal!” she cried out in delight. She wasn’t sure how to greet him. Shake his hand? Bow? If she hugged him, Walden would likely go berserk. In the end, Malkoran, Elder of the Wolves, Alpha Extraordinaire, settled the matter himself by kissing her hand in an old-fashioned manner. Evey laughed. He was like a really old, (occasionally) wise man in the body of a much younger person. She liked to consider him like her grandfather – or, more accurately, her greatn-grandfather. Which made Walden’s jealousy even more comical.

“Mal, you remember my husband,” Evey said when Walden reached the door.

He affected an offended expression. “Of course I do. I may be old, but I am not yet senile. Good to see you again, Walden.” Walden muttered unintelligibly in reply.

Evey grinned. Mal had never displayed much of a sense of humour before, but he was clearly making an effort when she was around. “Come on in,” she said, moving aside to let him pass. They started walking toward the living room. “Did you hear anything from the Bloodmother?” she asked with exaggerated casualness. These two were meant to be together, but Mal had screwed up pretty badly. Still, in Evey’s opinion, the Mother of the Ancients was being needlessly stubborn about the whole thing. Surely there was prescription – Mal had cheated on her several millennia ago.

Although, admittedly, he’d only apologised for it a few months past.

“Not since she left.”

Evey dropped her casual act. “Seriously? Nothing at all?”

Mal shrugged. “She has been through a lot recently. She lost a daughter. She needs time to heal. I am grateful enough that she accepted my offer to be accommodated in my old room at the Kunlun temple.”

Evey had a mental image of the Bloodmother in lotus position meditating on top of a snowy mountain, but it was simply too bizarre. “Right. But you’ve lost one of your own, too. It must be difficult for you.”

She felt a pang of guilt, not for the first time. Merlin knew that Greyback had had it coming, but ever since Tony had bitten her and killed the Wolf, she’d had trouble sleeping. Her nightmares were haunted by twin little girls with grey eyes, holding hands in front of a furnace in which Greyback was being burned alive. The girls looked a bit like the ghost children from _The Shining_. It was immensely creepy and weird.

She was not about to admit it to him, but she was afraid that Walden was correct: killing someone was not quite as easy as she used to believe. It stayed with you. Rarely a minute went by that she didn’t think of Greyback in some way.

“I never knew Damian personally, but every life is precious,” Malkoran said. “His death saddens me deeply. I wish he could have let go of his anger, his grief, his resentment. If I had done my job, if I’d been at all present, perhaps things would have turned out differently.” He sighed heavily. “It is too late now. All I can do is learn from my mistakes. I will do my best to tutor our new cub properly.”

“Draco!” Evey exclaimed. She’d completely forgotten about him. “How is he doing? Is he…adjusting?”

“Slowly, but surely,” Mal replied. “It is a lot to process, and the boy has had a rough couple of years besides. I believe that he will turn out just fine, though. I see great potential in him.” As they reached the living room, Evey indicated the most comfortable chair to Mal, then sat down with Walden on the couch. Tony was still upstairs, probably doing his hair.

“Did you, um…did you talk to his parents again?” After the Battle of Hogwarts, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had complained to Kingsley that their son had been kidnapped by a rabid werewolf. Evey didn’t know what had happened after that.

“I did, yes, of course. They have been made aware of our existence and they will be allowed to see their son as soon as I deem it safe. They were not happy, but they did not object. It is in the boy’s best interest.”

“What about Scabior?” Evey went on. She’d heard from Jabbar and Croyd – Greyback’s wolves were no longer confined to their den; the two of them had purchased a little cottage in Yorkshire – but nothing from the new Alpha.

“Your friend with the fuchsia hair is working with him.” Tonks. Her hair had been a depressing shade of mousy grey for months, but Evey had been pleasantly surprised to see that it had regained its usual colour at Harry’s birthday party. It clashed quite horribly with little Teddy’s hair, though. They should work on that. “The new Department of Werewolf Affairs is now fully operational. She wanted to involve me, as well, but it is too soon.”

“Too soon for what?”

Malkoran hesitated, which was unusual. “I was considering… I _am_ considering coming out to the wizarding world. So to speak. I need to discuss the matter with Ellessin before I can make a final decision, however.”

Ever since Snape had killed Dumbledore, Evey had been terrified that the Ancients and Wolves’ secret would be revealed to the entire world. But then it turned out that Snape wasn’t really on Voldemort’s side; clearly, he hadn’t told him everything, far from it.

And now Mal was considering revealing their existence _on purpose_? “Why the hell would you do that?”

Tony walked into the living room at that moment, his hair looking exactly as it always did. “Hey, old man,” he greeted Mal with a friendly smile.

“Good to see you, too, Antonin,” Mal said dryly. Just like Jeanne used to do, he pronounced the name _à la française_.

Tony shuddered. “Please don’t call me that.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s everyone?”

“We’re only expecting one other person,” Evey reminded him. “I hope that she can make it. We could certainly use her skills.”

“What about Edward? Miyamoto?” Mal enquired.

“Last I heard, Silver was in Istanbul with Alice,” Evey said. They’d received a postcard a week ago. Then she caught Mal’s frown. “Ah…Byzantium? Constantinople?”

His face brightened. “Oh. Yes, I see. Lovely city.”

“I’ll trust your word on it,” Evey said. She’d never travelled outside the UK. Had never left this island, in fact. Even Northern Ireland was an exotic country, to her. “As for Ted…” She exhaled softly. “He’s still in Middle-earth, as far as we know. I keep sending him messages, but he never replies. I’m getting mildly worried, I must say.”

“Mildly worried” was an understatement at this point. Time warp or not, she was giving serious thought to sending Walden over there to-

As if talking about him had summoned him, Ted suddenly stepped inside the room, panting, beard and hair in utter disarray. “I’m here, lass,” he wheezed. “I’m here.”

Evey jumped out of her seat, eyes wide with astonishment, while Nana celebrated the Wolf’s unexpected return by barking and running around happily. “What the hell took you so long? You’ve been gone for months! I thought you were dead!” She marched to him and punched his arm for good measure, though she doubted that he felt it at all.

“What were the Elves going to do? Throw flowers at me?” He grinned fondly when she punched him again.

“Didn’t you get my messages?” she demanded. “You must have been in Middle-earth…” She did a quick calculation. “…at least five whole days.”

Ted flushed slightly. “Aye…five days.” He cleared his throat and avoided Evey’s gaze.

Her fists tightened at her sides. “They fixed the portal, didn’t they?” she asked flatly. “There’s no time distortion anymore.”

Ted smiled abashedly. “They fixed it several months ago.”

“ _Months_ ago?” Evey repeated crossly. Didn’t he know her at all? Didn’t he realise that she would be insanely worried? Would it have killed him to send _one_ message, to let her know that he was okay, at least?

He seemed to read her mind. “I threw a few enchanted pieces of parchment inside the portal, as planned,” he said defensively. Tony had given him those when he’d departed; there was a Tracking Spell on them that would allow them to reach the manor. In theory. “Apparently the portal wasn’t properly fixed, though. I only got your messages hours ago. All of them at once.” He gestured helplessly, to show that it was hardly his fault. “I thought it wouldn’t hurt if I stayed a bit longer… Given the state of things when I left, I figured it’d be years until you were ready to take down Lord Noseless.” He rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Anyway. I’m here now, aren’t I? Where is he? What’s the plan? Did wee Harry get all the Horcruxes, or are we charging in without regard for consequences?”

Evey rolled her eyes. “Harry killed Voldemort back in May, Ted. Three months ago. The war is over.”

He blinked. “Are you pulling my leg?” Evey shook her head. “Bloody hell! I was so eager to kick some arses, and now you’re telling me that I came back for naught? Phaw!” He sat down on a chair with a pout, arms crossed over his massive chest.

“I promise you, you didn’t come back for naught,” she said slyly. “In fact, you’re just in time. I think you’re going to like this mission.”

“It’s a suicide mission,” Walden muttered. Evey glanced at him. It was the first words he’d uttered since Mal had arrived. She was about to chide him for this unfair remark, but she was interrupted by a new guest.

“A suicide mission, uh? Well, boy, am I glad that I decided to join you, then,” a female voice said. Evey turned to see the Ripper, her white hair reflecting yellow light under the electric chandelier. Her dark eyes glittered like onyx and she was smiling in a rather disturbing manner. “Whatever it is, count me in.”

* * *

“Thank you all for coming today,” Evey said to their sparse guests.

Walden still didn’t think that this was a good idea, whatever Evey believed. She was, however, more stubborn than anyone he’d ever met – himself included. Hopefully, the assembled Ancients and Wolves would laugh it off and they could go on with their lives.

“I’m not going to beat about the bush,” Evey went on. “This meeting’s purpose is to plan a rescue mission.”

“Who are we rescuing?” Blackbeard asked.

“Sirius Black.”

The Ripper scowled. “Never heard of him. Is he someone important?”

“He’s Harry Potter’s godfather. And a friend of ours.”

“Mm.” The Ripper didn’t look impressed by Sirius’s credentials. “And where is he? Who captured him? Why did your husband call this a ‘suicide mission’?”

Because it bloody was.

Walden had successfully convinced Evey not to go to Pandemonium herself, considering the fact that her demonic essence was debatable, even if she was likely immortal – or more than merely mortal, in any case. He didn’t understand why Evey had kept that bit of information to herself. He’d forgiven her for omitting to mention it, however, as well as Hades’s first visit, because she’d been absolutely crestfallen when she’d told him. She’d been crying, something she almost never did. He didn’t have the heart to be angry after that, though he didn’t fully understand why she made such a big deal out of it. For a while now, he’d suspected that she was immortal. It simply made sense. He’d assumed that Evey knew it, too.

They probably ought to work on their communication skills, the both of them.

Walden had always been perfectly comfortable with his own mortality. In fact, he was relieved to be mortal still. People weren’t meant to live forever. Of course it would be hard on Evey when he passed, but he wasn’t overly worried. She was far from alone; most of her friends were immortal, and Tony would always look after her.

Unfortunately, after convincing Evey to stay put, Tony hadn’t hesitated to volunteer to go into Pandemonium himself. Evey had decided that she would do some extensive research while Tony was gone, looking into what to expect if they did find Sirius, as well as possible remedies to whatever may ail him when he returned.

Walden had suggested doing that _before_ anyone ventured into Pandemonium, but Evey claimed that time wasn’t on their side: Sirius had been gone for over two years and his chances of survival likely decreased by the day. She was adamant that the fact that Harry hadn’t seen his godfather’s Stone-ghost meant that he was still alive in May, but that didn’t mean that they should delay any longer than necessary.

Walden had then resorted to demanding that other Wolves and/or Ancients accompany Antonin beyond the veil, while Evey and he did some research. It was too dangerous for Tony to go alone. Thankfully, his brother had seen the sense in that and Evey had deemed it a brilliant idea. Walden had suggested Alice, Gorgo, perhaps Imhotep but, as his luck would have it, the only immortal people available were Jack the Ripper and bloody Malkoran. He didn’t trust either of them.

And now Blackbeard was back. That damned pirate. Though, in all fairness, he was a better alternative than the Ripper or the Wolves’ Alpha.

Evey waved the Ripper’s question aside. “Don’t listen to Walden.” _Gee, thanks, love_. “I have it on good authority that Wolves and Ancients will be perfectly safe-”

“That’s not at all what he said, V,” Walden grumbled. “You can’t send people to literal hell without informing them of the risks. It has to be a lucid decision. Don’t bait them with promises of fun adventures.”

“But we want to be baited with promises of fun adventures!” Blackbeard complained.

“The beast has a point,” the Ripper said, “but I’d still like to know where we’re going.”

“Well, it’s not ‘literal hell’,” Evey assured them. Perhaps, but it was the closest thing to it. “It’s a place called Pandemonium,” she went on. She chewed on her lip, obviously expecting outcries regarding her mental health as well as stark refusals. That was what Walden expected, anyway.

Instead, the Ripper grinned in that predatory manner of hers. “The Demon Realm. Why, I didn’t know that we could actually go there. How?”

Evey smiled gratefully. “A portal at the Ministry of Magic. Getting inside shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you, though Kingsley insists that they’ve improved security around the Department of Mysteries since a major battle was fought there.”

“Barely a challenge,” the Ripper said dismissively. “I assume that you have no idea where to find that Black person, once we reach Pandemonium?”

“Is he even alive?” Blackbeard asked. “He’s just a mortal, isn’t he?”

Evey hesitated. “Um, well, I believe that he is alive. Though he might be…damaged in some way, and finding him will likely be difficult.”

“We’re utterly clueless,” Walden said bluntly. “Sirius could be dead, or worse. You might be risking your lives for nothing.”

Evey glared at him. “I thought you agreed to this!”

“Reluctantly. I still think it’s a terrible idea. We’ve barely begun researching the matter, and what we’ve found is not very promising, V.”

“Evangeline,” Malkoran cut in. Seriously, did he have to call her that? Nobody called her that. Did he think he was special or something? “When you said you had it ‘on good authority’, what did you mean?”

She blushed slightly. “Oh, that. Um… Our research…”

“Hades told us,” Walden broke in. Evey rolled her eyes.

“Hades…the Lord of the Underworld?” Malkoran said slowly. “The Ancient God?”

Walden nodded. “Yep, that’s the one.” He couldn’t help but wonder if the god was listening in on their conversation right now but, if he was, he didn’t make an appearance.

Malkoran narrowed his eyes and turned to Evey. “You summoned a god? After I explained to you what happened when I…when Elle and I… Do you have any idea…” He didn’t raise his voice, but he seemed to be too angry to form a full sentence. If Malkoran was against the plan (if it could be called that), it would probably work in Walden’s favour.

Though Walden wasn’t sure that he wanted to win that way.

“No!” Evey said quickly. “No, of course not, I would never do that.” Tony smirked knowingly but didn’t comment. “Actually, you can’t summon gods, as it turns out. They send demons in their stead, which is why…” She trailed off when she caught Malkoran’s glower. “Anyway. Hades just appeared to us, without being prompted. He…he says he finds us entertaining and apparently likes to follow us around. Me, especially.”

“He didn’t demand any sacrifice for this information?” Malkoran insisted.

“Nothing, I swear,” Evey said. “Honestly, I think he was just bored.”

Malkoran exhaled loudly. “When I think of all the trouble we went through to summon two lousy demons who ended up cursing us…” he muttered. The light from the chandelier flickered ominously.

Evey looked up. “Yeah, apparently, gods and demons both enjoy listening in on our conversations, so I wouldn’t…” She cleared her throat as the kitchen door banged shut. “…wouldn’t call them lousy, especially if you’re going into Pandemonium.”

“I am not going into the Demon Realm, Evangeline,” Malkoran said quietly.

The look of utter disappointment on her face made Walden want to punch the Wolf. “Oh. Are you going to forbid Ted from going, too?” she asked in a small voice.

“Of course not. I am his Alpha, not his mother.”

Ted snorted. “I’m going, alright. Consider me successfully baited.”

“Brilliant,” Evey said with a relieved smile. She turned to the Ripper, who nodded silently. “Thank you. You and Tony will go into Pandemonium, then, while Walden and I do some research.”

“The fledgling is coming along?” the Ripper said with a moue of disapproval. “I don’t want to have to babysit him.”

“Hey, I can take care of myself!” Tony retorted. “I’m a wizard. I can be more useful than you think.”

“I think you’ll be more of a hindrance, but I suppose we don’t have much choice,” the Ripper said with a melodramatic, unnecessary sigh.

There was a moment of silence, then the words that Walden dreaded finally came. “I can assist you with your research, if you wish,” Malkoran said. “I would not want you to think that I have not a care what happens to your friend. If this is important to you, then I will do whatever I can to help. From here.”

Evey’s smile was so sudden and genuine that Walden nearly called off the entire operation. “That would be great! You must speak dozens of languages.” So what?! Walden spoke nearly _forty_ different languages! They hardly needed the Wolf for translating purposes. “And we can benefit from your general knowledge of the past millennia,” Evey added.

_Ha!_ _General knowledge, my arse_. The man didn’t even know where Istanbul was.

“Here’s what we already know, thanks to Hades,” Evey continued. “Immortals with demonic essence, i.e., you people, have a much better chance of surviving in Pandemonium. Sirius is probably ‘alive’, but his mortal body must have had trouble adjusting in a place where time is…um, different, or doesn’t really exist, which means that when he returns, he may be…changed. Kind of broken, even. We don’t know, exactly, but that’s what we need to research. There must have been a least one precedent.”

“I hate to be the voice of reason,” the Ripper said, “but oughtn’t we do extensive research _before_ departing? I mean, I’ll visit the place regardless, but still.”

Finally, someone with some semblance of sense! Odd, though, that the only one who agreed with Walden was a total psycho. “That’s what I said.”

“There’s no time to lose,” Evey insisted. “And we can still communicate with you, if we really find some major, relevant information.”

“Really? How?” Blackbeard asked.

“Demons,” Evey explained. “We can summon them here and make them deliver messages to you. At least I think that would work,” she said uncertainly.

“In any case, that’s a last resort solution,” Walden warned them.

“I do not think you understand just how dangerous summoning demons is,” Malkoran said.

“Mal, no offence, but when you did your thing, well, you had no idea what you were doing,” Evey said. “There are manuals now, written by legit, expert Summoners. We know which demons to summon, what to tell them, how to make sure that they do what we order them to do.”

Malkoran didn’t look convinced, but he waved his own concern aside. “Do you know for certain that there will be a way out for them, if and when they find your mortal friend?”

“We don’t know if the Ministry portal works both ways,” she admitted, “but Hades assured us that there were other…possibilities.”

“And you believe him?” Mal asked with an arched eyebrow.

“I…have no reason not to.”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Blackbeard said confidently. “We’ll figure something out. You know me, I’m very resourceful. And I’m sure Miss Ripper here is the same.” Judging by the Ripper’s grimace of disdain, she didn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Edward, you must keep in mind that you are immortal. If you are trapped in Pandemonium, you will be forced to spend eternity there,” Malkoran said. “Unlike the mortal, who will eventually die, if he is even alive to begin with.”

“How about we remain optimistic for the time being?” Evey said with some annoyance. “Hades wouldn’t have bothered to come to us if he didn’t think it was possible.”

Malkoran sneered, an unusual expression on his normally neutral face. “He is a god, Evangeline. You are being naïve. He thinks you are highly entertaining, you admitted it yourself. Don’t you think he would send us on an impossible, deadly quest simply to have something to distract him from his tedious existence? You do not know what they are capable of.”

“And you do?” Evey countered. “With all due respect, you’ve never encountered a god, Mal. Only a pesky demon.” The floor rumbled under their feet.

“V… Be careful what adjectives you use regarding that specific demon,” Tony reminded her.

Malkoran threw his hands up in frustration and opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment the air near the fireplace shimmered and a translucent, shapeless silhouette appeared. “Malkoran Devandar,” it intoned in an androgynous voice. “You should know that demons don’t do anything without the approbation of their masters. Your curse was divine punishment.”

Walden wasn’t sure what reaction to expect, but Malkoran laughed. It was a bitter sound, entirely devoid of mirth. “You are making my point for me.” He turned to Evey. “Gods or demons, you cannot trust them.”

The formless spectre spoke again. “No one summons the gods. The gods appear to the worthy. You were never worthy. For your pride, for your vainglorious ambition, for your treachery, you were punished.” It pointed to Evey with a misty tentacle. “She is worthy. Listen to her, Cursed One, and perhaps you will redeem yourself.” It made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. “That being said, it is indeed best for you to stay away from the place you have named the Demon Realm. You have neither the strength nor the will of mind to withstand the trials that await within.” With that, it faded out of existence.

Silence reigned inside the living room. “Was that Hades?” the Ripper asked conversationally.

Evey frowned at the now-empty space that the apparition had briefly occupied. “I…don’t know. He’s always appeared as a human before.”

“I think it was a demon,” Tony said. “Gods can appear however and whenever they want, but demons cannot travel here without either being summoned or being sent by a…higher authority. It must have been a demon, but not in its full form, merely here to deliver a message.”

Blackbeard cocked his head sideways. “You think it was Fen-” He cut off when Malkoran shot him a warning look. “Um, our creator?”

Tony shrugged. “No idea. Maybe. Doesn’t seem like the sort of task you’d delegate to a primordial demon, but who knows.”

“It wasn’t the Great Wolf. It was _her_ ,” Malkoran whispered. “The Seer. She called me the Cursed One. She knew my name.”

“The Seer…” Evey said slowly. “That evil hag who tricked you into killing your friends and has been reincarnated as the Questing Beast?”

Malkoran nodded. “When you slew her – it – last year, its essence must have returned to wherever it dwells while it…reforms. Perhaps it awaits in Pandemonium. It may have been human once, but it must now be demonic in some way.” His face hardened. “Which only confirms my initial apprehension. You cannot trust anything Hades told you, Evangeline. I’m beginning to think that your husband has the right of it. Is retrieving Black really worth the risk of losing three good people?”

Ugh. Great. Now Malkoran was taking his side. “Are you sure you’re not just bitter because the Seer said that Evey was worthy and you were not?” Walden said. Evey glanced at him suspiciously. Why? He was her husband. He would always be on her side, no matter how crazy and dangerous her ideas were.

Malkoran looked confused by Walden’s change of heart, but then he smirked. “Are you sure it is not your misplaced jealousy that makes you suddenly side with your wife instead of me?”

Walden stood up, fists clenched. Evey chuckled nervously. “Guys. Come on. This is ridiculous.” When Malkoran stood to face Walden, she placed herself between the two of them. “Mal, I understand your reluctance, alright? I really do, but you have to trust me on this. Hades is being genuinely helpful, for some weird, unfathomable reason. He may be bored and craving entertainment, but if he truly wanted us to die horribly, he wouldn’t have warned us about the potential problems we’ll be facing in Pandemonium. He would have simply told us where to go and then enjoyed the show as chaos unfolded, don’t you think?” Malkoran made no reply, so Evey turned to Walden and glared at him reproachfully. What had _he_ done? “It was cute at first, but honestly, Wal. Don’t you know me at all? He’s way too flawlessly pretty to be attractive to me and he has almost no sense of humour. Oh, and besides, you’re my husband and I love you. Just in case you’d forgotten. Again.” Her eyes sparked dangerously.

Malkoran scowled at her description of him, but Walden relaxed slightly, flushing in embarrassment. He wasn’t jealous. He was just… Yeah, alright, maybe just a wee bit jealous. In his defence, it was hard not to feel…inadequate beside the immortal Wolf, who was indeed _flawlessly pretty_. And what did that mean, anyway? That Walden wasn’t pretty and Evey found his glaring ugliness attractive somehow? Gods, women were confusing.

The Ripper was studying the scene with obvious amusement and Blackbeard was chortling to himself. Tony looked embarrassed, likely on Walden’s behalf.

Apparently, Evey wasn’t done making them feel foolish for their behaviour and humiliating them in front of the others. “Mal, stop trying to Alpha my husband. He’s not a werewolf. Walden, stop feeling the urge to assert your dominance in your home turf. You’re not a werewolf.” With that, she resumed her seat on the couch, arms and legs crossed.

“Way to Alpha _them,_ Wolf Girl,” Blackbeard said with a loud guffaw.

“Well, children, if you’re done with your preschool drama, may we discuss the details of our suicide mission/impossible quest?” the Ripper suggested.


	4. We're all stories in the end

Their new maid, Sloan, served tea, coffee, biscuits and blood, for them picky drinkers who wanted it. Caraid was so frail now that he was bedridden, but Walden and Evey had decided not to hire another house elf. This human help was paid, free to leave their service whenever she wanted and was permitted (even strongly encouraged) to wear clothes. She was a Squibb who lived in a nearby village. She came by twice a week to clean but Evey had asked her to come in today, since they had guests. The biscuits she’d baked smelled like heaven. Tony admired them longingly.

Ted asked for a bit of rum to spice up his coffee. Wolves couldn’t really get drunk or intoxicated in any way, so why not, Tony figured. Even if they departed today, Ted would be lucid. As lucid as he ever was. What had possessed him to stay in Middle-earth for so long without letting them know that he was okay? Evey had been worried sick, but she'd been reluctant to let anyone check up on him due to the faulty portal - which wasn't faulty anymore, apparently. That was good to know.

“Well, I suppose our goal is simple enough: find the mortal and return it safely to you.” The Ripper was drinking her tepid O-negative blood in a fancy china tea cup with her pinkie finger raised, which would have made Tony snigger if she weren’t so bloody terrifying. Truth be told, he wasn’t looking forward to journeying with her and the feeling was clearly mutual. Ted, at least, was always cheerful and talkative and while he was certainly dangerous in his own, unassuming way, he didn’t look at you like he wanted to murder you in a gruesome and elaborate manner.

“ _Him_ ,” Evey corrected her. “Him, not it.”

The Ripper shrugged. “Whatever. I assume that the fledgling knows the way inside the Department of Mysteries and what the mortal looks like.” Tony nodded. How long was she going to call him ‘fledgling’? “Then the rest of the work, the boring research part, will be up to you.”

“Yes, indeed,” Evey said. “We’ve already looked into it. We need to find out if any mortal has ever gone into Pandemonium and returned.”

“I should think that, if it were the case, we would know about it,” Malkoran said. “People like to celebrate their breakthroughs, yes? But they are loath to advertise their failures. I’m not saying that no one ever made it in and out – I’m just saying, if they did, they didn’t let the world know for a reason.”

“Because the Demon Realm is filled with demons and therefore quite dangerous to mortals?” Evey suggested. “Seems like a good enough reason to not recommend the place for tourism.”

The Alpha ignored her sarcastic comment. “Did you find any useful information at all?”

Evey sighed. “One book I’ve read claims that the mortal soul is detached from the body upon entering ‘Hell’, but the sources were unreliable. It was a Muggle book, a collection of esoteric, controversial Middle-Ages stories. The author said that some of his acquaintances travelled to another plane of existence, which he named Hell, but we know that Hell isn’t a thing, so I’m guessing they stumbled into Pandemonium somehow.” She wrung her hands nervously. “Some of them returned home, but they were…well, sort of like a person after they receive a Dementor’s kiss.”

“And is there a way to reattach the soul when we bring it – Sirius – back?” the Ripper asked.

“Well, that’s what we need to determine. Among other things. Not sure where to begin, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, lass,” Ted said confidently. “Now, what should we pack? Unlike you leeches, I don’t need to feed to live, but I do get cranky if don’t eat,” he remarked to no one in particular.

“We don’t need to feed to live either,” the Ripper pointed out. “But we also get ‘cranky’ when we don’t.” By cranky, she meant wild and rabid and insanely dangerous. Tony wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Ripper if the bloodlust hit her. “Any idea how long we’ll be in there? How big is Pandemonium? Is it like a city, or a country?”

Evey smiled abashedly. “I don’t know, but I’m afraid it will be impossibly vast. I don’t think words like ‘city’ or ‘country’ apply. You may be gone for weeks.” She hesitated. “And, um, when I said that time didn’t really exist in there? That’s just something I read, but I have no idea what it means, concretely. Does it mean that you’ll leave and return and that no time will have passed here? Or will it be like Middle-earth prior to Ted's visit, where you leave for a couple of days and come back months later?” She shook her head. “It’s difficult to tell. And I’ll understand if you don’t want to risk wasting so much time in there just to save a mortal you don’t even know.”

The Ripper laughed, which gave Tony a chill, not because it was maniacal, but rather because it was actually a lovely sound and kind of…hot. Good gods. “I care naught about the mortal, girl. I’ll do what I can to return him to you in one piece, but I really just want to visit the bloody place.”

“As for wasting time,” Ted broke in, “we’re immortal, love. Wasting time is what we do.” His bushy eyebrows came together as he scowled. “The real question is, will _you_ be alright? ‘cause I know that you worry easily...”

Evey blushed. She’d always evaded their questions about how she’d fared while they’d been in Middle-earth, but Tony was under the impression that it’d been much worse than she let on. “I’ll be fine. Walden will be here and I trust you to keep an eye on Tony.” _Thank you for the vote of confidence, V_. “Just...please, do return as soon as you can. Don’t dawdle to explore or stop to pet every demon.” Ted had the grace to look embarrassed. At least Walden and Tony hadn’t deliberately dawdled in Middle-earth. “I mean, you can always go back there if you want, once you’ve let me know that you’re okay.”

“We will, lass, don’t fret,” Ted assured her.

“Good,” Evey said. “Our first step will be to find someone who knows about Pandemonium, or a book whose author actually knows his shit… Maybe we should start with Dumbledore’s portrait at Hog-”

“Flamel!” Walden exclaimed suddenly.

They all stared at him and he lowered his eyes to the floor. It wasn’t like him to unnecessarily attract every eye to him, especially by shouting random words into the air. “What’s that mean?” Tony asked his brother.

“Nicolas Flamel,” Walden expanded. “The alchemist who created the first and only Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Which was destroyed years ago,” Evey said. She had obviously caught on her husband’s meaning right away; after all, she’d studied Alchemy at Hogwarts. And she’d been a student when the famous Stone was being safeguarded at the castle. “Flamel must be dead by now.”

“Maybe,” Walden admitted. “But all the research he did to create the Stone… If we could brew the Elixir of Life, maybe we could save Sirius.”

“He never published his research,” Evey said. “For obvious reasons.”

“I know, but he must have had it in his possession, no? It was his life’s work, I doubt he’d just destroy it, even if he did give up the Stone. He must have kept his notes somewhere.”

Evey pondered for a minute, looking thoughtful. Tony had been afraid that they would have a domestic fight just a few minutes ago, but apparently he’d been worried about nothing. Things were back to normal. Again. He really wished that they would stop arguing all the time; it was making him anxious.

“Flamel lived in France, right?” Evey said eventually.

Walden nodded. “He had a house in Paris, I think.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.” She turned to Mal. “What do you think?”

“I have heard of this Flamel. He was quite reputed. It is safe to assume that his house will be well-protected, if it still stands. But I agree, it is worth a visit.” He smiled slightly. “I haven’t been in Paris in ages.” Knowing him, he wasn’t exaggerating. It was literally ages.

The Ripper clapped her hands loudly and stood. “Well then. Let’s pack a few gallons of blood and some meat for the Wolf and we can be on our way.” She sounded quite keen, as though visiting a world where demons ruled and where they could get lost forever was something to look forward to.

“Blood and meat? Won’t we need anything else?” Tony wondered aloud.

Ted shrugged. “You’ve got your wand, don’t you? You can provide light, fire, water…whatever we could possibly need, except for sustenance. You can wash and dry our clothes too, right?”

“I’m not your squire, you know,” Tony retorted. In truth, he had no idea if his magic would work in Pandemonium. He chose not to say that out loud, however. He felt useless enough as it was.

“I’m just being practical, mate. The less we carry, the faster we can move around, the more ground we can cover. Not that weight is much of a hindrance to us, but I’d rather not have to lug seven suitcases around, if it can be avoided.” He glanced at the Ripper, as though she was likely to insist on bringing several changes of clothes. Tony had only ever seen her wearing the same lacy black dress, like a creepy lady in a Victorian painting.

“The Wolf is right. If you’re so _useful_ , surely you can provide dry cleaning services,” the Ripper said with a fang-revealing grin.

Tony huffed in annoyance. “Does either of you speak demon, though? Because I don’t.”

“No,” Ted admitted. “But I’m good at making myself understood with body language. I’ve travelled a lot, you know.”

That was reassuring. Tony wasn’t particularly fond of Malkoran but, if Walden couldn’t accompany them, a living translator would have come in handy. He could only hope that Walden and Malkoran wouldn’t kill each other while he was gone – though Evey seemed quite capable of handling them. “Guess that’ll have to do,” he muttered.

“Greater demons adapt their speech to the person they address,” Malkoran said. “They will likely speak English.” Huh. In truth, Tony had hoped to _avoid_ greater demons. Oh well.

“I’ll go pack some more weapons,” the Ripper announced. “Would someone Apparate with me? Wizards-for-hire are shockingly expensive.”

“I’ll fetch a few things, as well,” Ted said. Walden and Tony offered to Apparate with them, since Apparition was not Evey’s forte.

“Mal and I will start making plans for Paris,” Evey said. “We’ll need maps.” Walden didn’t look too happy about that, but he said nothing. They all agreed to meet back at the manor in an hour.

When Tony returned with the Ripper – who'd donned clothes and boots that were more adapted to hiking and fighting, and had sensibly packed only one backpack, which was mostly filled with blades of various sizes, a machete and an old-fashioned pistol – they found Malkoran and Ted in the living room. Evey and Walden, they said, were in the library. They all joined them there.

Evey was scanning book spines in the history section. “I think I once read something about…ah, what’s-his-name…that bloke who was famous for his research on magical beasts…you know, he wrote that school book…he has a name like a lizard…Salamander?” Tony didn’t know if she was talking to herself or actually expecting people to provide a name.

“Scamander?” Walden supplied helpfully. “Newt Scamander?”

“Yes, that’s the one!” She giggled softly. “Newt. Who in their right mind would name their child Newt?”

“Um…his name is Newton, V. Newt’s just a nickname,” Walden explained.

She looked up at that. “Oh. Well, that’s disappointing. Anyway. Wasn’t he involved in some business in Paris, with Flamel? Back when Grindelwald was rising to power?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, but we can ask him. I know him and I know where to find him,” Walden said. “He’s helped me in the past.”

Given his job, it made sense. Scamander was _the_ reference to everything pertaining to magical beasts. “We all have our tasks, then. So…I guess we’ll be on our way,” Tony said fatalistically.

Why had he volunteered for this again? Oh, right. So that Evey wouldn’t go.

“Bloody hell, I’m such a fool!” the Ripper exclaimed as everyone headed for the door. They all gaped at her in surprise. That was not the sort of things you might expect her to blurt out. “There’s an easy way to find out if your pet mortal is still alive. I should have thought of this before, but you were chattering about irrelevant things, I guess I lost focus.” She paused, for no reason that Tony could fathom.

“Well? Are you going to tell us, or are we supposed to guess, my bloodthirsty friend?” Ted prompted her.

Tony expected a glower and some acidic remark, but the Ripper chuckled, gesturing toward the bookshelves. “The fucking _Library_ , you twits. I can’t believe I thought of it before any of you nerds did.”

Evey still looked confused. Well, everyone did. “I told you, I’ve already searched every book in this room-”

“No, not…” The Ripper trailed off. “I mean the Library. _The_ Library. You know.”

They all looked at each other. Even Malkoran, who possessed millennia of stored knowledge, seemed to draw a blank. “Obviously, we don’t,” Tony stated. “Even our living encyclopaedia is stumped. Please, enlighten us poor idiots.”

The Ripper shook her head. “What do they teach fledglings these days?” she muttered. “I thought it was common knowledge. There’s a place where you can read people’s…biographies. Everyone in the world has one, mortal or immortal. If your friend is alive, it will be marked down in his life’s book. We may even find out exactly where he is.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. “You’re making this up, aren’t you?” Ted said eventually. “There’s no such place!”

His eyes sought Malkoran’s but the Alpha shrugged lightly. “Just because I have never heard of it means it does not exist. I am not omniscient, Edward.”

“I have about a thousand questions,” Evey said, “but at the top of my head: where is this Library? When is it open? Can _anyone_ just go in there and-”

“Yes to the last question,” the Ripper said curtly. “Anyone can open any book, except your own. And believe me, it’s _very_ detailed. I spent days reading Fred Abberline’s biography. It was hilarious.” She smirked. “He was so clueless, I almost pitied the poor man.” Everyone was staring at her expectantly. “But I digress. It’s…well, underground. And it’s impossibly vast. One of the entrances lies in London, at the Tower Hill Tube station. We can go right now.”

“Then let’s go,” Evey said enthusiastically.

* * *

Evey stared around her in wonder, mouth slightly agape. She was rather short, but she’d never felt so tiny in her entire life.

When the Ripper said that this mysterious Library held the biographies of everyone, Evey had assumed…well, everyone in the UK, perhaps, since it was located in London.

Except it wasn’t. Tower Hill was just one entrance. This was where the people with names starting with WAL-WAM who’d lived in the 19th century were situated. The people from everywhere in the _world_ who’d lived in that period. This section alone was larger than the Tower of London - or perhaps larger than London itself. Most of the place was in complete darkness, so it was hard to estimate its size.

Evey did her best to focus on the matter at hand. “Um…how do we find Sirius’s book? Is there a…means of transportation to take us to other parts of the Library, or…” Or would they have to walk all the way to the correct section, which was in Thailand, for all Evey knew? They needed a map. Or better yet… “Is there a librarian in this Library? Maybe an orang-utan?”

The Ripper shot her a gleeful smile. “I like your literary taste, girl. And yes, there are thousands of librarians. Recording our conversation as we speak, I’ll wager, in our respective books. We can’t see them, though,” she added just as Evey was getting excited and curious again.

“Why is that? Are they invisible?” Ted wondered. He’d been sniffing the air ever since they’d arrived. “I can definitely _smell_ them, whatever they are.”

Mal nodded in agreement. “The scent is vaguely familiar, though I can’t quite put a name on the matching creature…”

“Oh, you must have encountered them before,” the Ripper said. “Killed a lot of people in your days, uh, pretty boy?” Mal didn’t object to being called a pretty boy, though he did look puzzled by the choice of words. Evey hid a smile behind her hand. “They live among us. Being on recording duty is more of a punishment, to them. They prefer the other aspect of their job.” She smiled brightly. Her fangs were out, Evey noticed. “Which often coincides with mine.”

No one knew precisely what the Ripper did for a “living”, but Evey assumed it involved killing people. “I’m not following.”

“Well, whenever I…fulfil a contract, one of _them_ is always nearby to…meet their quota.” No one spoke and she rolled her eyes impatiently. “Gods, you’re slow. I kill someone and they take them to the next world. Don’t you know how these things work? Do I need to give you _the talk_?” she sneered.

“Wait, you know what happens to people after they die?” Evey said in a strangled voice. She certainly hadn’t learned _that_ in school.

The Ripper shrugged. “Well, I know the first and second steps. One: I kill them. Two: the shinigami pack up the soul of the dead and take them…wherever they’re supposed to go.”

“Shini-what now?” Tony repeated.

“Gods of Death,” Ted said slowly. Evey frowned at him. “It’s Japanese. It’s a Japanese myth.”

“It’s not a bloody myth!” the Ripper exclaimed. “Dear gods, man, how long have you been alive? Don’t you know that myths are all true? There may be exaggerated, Muggle versions of them, but they all stem from facts. Shinigami are the reapers of the dead. They’ve always been. And only the dying may lay eyes on them.”

“Ok, but how do you know all this, if you’ve never seen one?” Evey asked, despite the hundred more pressing questions bouncing wildly in her mind. “Did you see one when you died the first time?” She glanced at Tony and Walden, who had also died once, but they shook their heads in unison.

“No. My time hadn’t come yet. They knew that.” The Ripper picked up a book on the shelf, seemingly at random, and flipped through it. “I know because it’s written in the books, at the end: ‘ _Mary Ann Nichols, née Walker, breathed her last breath on 31 st August 1888, at 3 hours, 31 minutes, 23 seconds, having lived a total of 43 years, 5 days, 7 hours, 12 minutes and 42 seconds. Her soul was successfully harvested by Shinigami Kage and brought on to the next life_.’”

One of the Ripper's victims, if memory served. “‘To the next life’? It actually says that?” So there really was a life after death? Evey had always assumed that oblivion awaited. Eternal nothingness.

“Yes, it does say that, in every dead person’s book. Not sure if they all go to the same place, but it’s always the same wording.”

“And they’re all written in English?” Walden asked.

The Ripper hesitated. “The ones I’ve read were. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, or maybe the book adapts to the reader. It’s convenient, so I never really wondered about it.”

“And the shinigami…where are they now?” Evey wondered.

“Oh, everywhere. If our Wolfish friends can smell them, there must be at least a few in the area.”

Evey glanced around, half-expecting to find some sort of horrifying monster behind her. She hugged herself tightly. Walden put his flesh arm around her.

The Ripper laughed at the gesture. “They’re completely harmless. They’re not the ones doing the killing, they’re more like…cabbies for the dead. I’m the one everyone should be afraid of.”

“Don’t worry, we are,” Tony said with a good-natured smile. “So, how do we find the volume we need?”

“Just ask.” She cleared her throat. “We’re looking for the last volume of Sirius Black’s biography,” she spoke loudly into the air. She glanced at Evey. “Do you happen to know his date of birth? That would be helpful.”

“3rd November, 1959.”

“It may take a few min-” There was a whoosh of air as a book flew toward her and stopped inches away from her face. The Ripper grinned triumphantly. “There it is.” She took the book and turned the cover toward them.

The title – SIRIUS BLACK; PADFOOT; SNUFFLES – was elegantly handwritten in black ink on the brown leather-bound cover. Below it was the inscription: A BIOGRAPHY BY SHINIGAMI OROKANA.

Evey took it reverently and opened it in the middle. There were dates and hours followed by descriptive sentences, like " _Sirius Black eats a mouthful of disgusting oatmeal"_ or " _Sirius Black closes his eyes as two of the Dementors who guard him, Karen and Steve, approach his cell."_ Evey skipped a few pages. " _Sirius Black mentally relives some of the worst moments of his existence, but attempts to counter the effect of the Dementor’s power by thinking about his late best friend, James Potter, alias Prongs."_

This was an invasion of privacy if ever there was one. It was even worse than reading someone's diary. Evey quickly flipped through the pages, feeling guilty. Eventually, she reached a page that was half-blank. The last line began with today’s date, though the time of day wasn't specified. It was followed by: " _Sirius Black exists."_

Evey scowled, then looked up the previous line, then the one before; yesterday and the day before yesterday. They all said the same thing.

_Sirius Black exists._

Walden was reading over her shoulder, but she repeated the words aloud for the others.

“Well, that’s…good, right? If he exists, he’s not dead,” Tony said tentatively.

The Ripper grabbed the book from Evey’s hands and peered at the words, eyes narrowed. “I’ve never seen that phrase before. When people sleep, it says that they sleep or dream or drool. Everyone is always doing _something_ , aside from merely existing.” She considered the book a moment longer. “But he’s not dead. Otherwise it would say that he is. I’m sure of it.”

“So we know that he’s alive, today, but not where he is,” Ted summarised.

The Ripper went back several pages. “It’s more of the same, but perhaps the entry about the moment he fell through the portal will give us a clue…” She put her finger on a page. “There!” She read aloud: “ _Sirius Black is hit in the chest by a Stunning spell cast by his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, and is pulled through the portal leading to the Forbidden Realm._ ”

Forbidden Realm? Forbidden to whom? The shinigami, or everyone? “Yes?” Evey prompted her. “And then?”

“That’s it. The next entry is that he exists. Then it’s the same line repeated once per day.”

“Can we truly be certain that he’s alive?” Ted wondered. “If the shinigami call it the Forbidden Realm, perhaps they’re not allowed in there, so they have no way of knowing what’s happening to Sirius and that’s why the last entries are…unsubstantial.”

“I must concur. This proves nothing,” Mal said.

The Ripper glowered at the two Wolves. “Who’s the expert here? You didn’t even know that this place existed!”

“Can we talk to the…gods of death?” Tony asked. “They could simply tell us what we want to know.”

The Ripper smirked. “Sure, that’s easy. Here’s the plan: one of the Wolf tears your throat out, you bleed to near-death, a shinigami appears to lead you on to the next life, you ask it whatever you want and let us know the answer with your dying breath, then you die and we go look for the mortal.”

“Or we could just…trust her on the matter?” Evey supplied.

Tony nodded approvingly. “I prefer that plan.”

“Good. Now, are we going on an adventure, or what?” the Ripper demanded.

“Wait!” Ted exclaimed suddenly. His eyes twinkled as if he’d had an epiphany. “While we’re here, we should check out Greyback’s book. Then we’ll know where he’s hiding!” Every eye turned to him. “What?” he asked after a moment. “It’s a legitimate idea,” he added defensively.

“Ted, I’m sorry, I completely forgot,” Evey said, biting her lip. “Um… He’s dead. Greyback’s dead.”

He chuckled uncertainly. “You’re kidding, right?” Evey shook her head. Ted took a deep breath. “I need Greyback’s last volume, shinigami-san!" he shouted. His booming voice carried and echoed in the Library. "Damian Wilk. Born…er, earlier this century.”

Oh, but this was a terrible idea.

A volume much larger than that of Sirius flew toward him. The cover was black, the inscription silver. Evey read it reflexively: DAMIAN MATEUSZ WILK; [CENSORED] GREYBACK. A BIOGRAPHY BY SHINIGAMI ŌKAMI. “Censored?” she said.

“If they call Pandemonium the Forbidden Realm, it makes sense that they’d avoid naming demons,” Walden suggested.

Now that the book was right there, Evey was dying to read it. She knew she shouldn’t, though. Greyback didn’t deserve any privacy, perhaps, but the people who’d known him did. Especially his victims. “Ted, we shouldn’t-”

He pretended not to hear her and flipped the pages to the very end. “ _[CENSORED] Greyback suffers a deadly wound to the throat (carotid is severed). Origin of wound unknown._ ” Evey and Tony exchanged a puzzled look. “ _[CENSORED] Greyback walks toward the immortal vampire (so-called ‘Ancient’) Antonin Dolohov and the creature of undetermined origin known as Evangeline Vivian Macnair, née Kane_ ,” – Evey scoffed; _creature_? Seriously? – “ _but falls dead before he can reach them._ _He breathed his last breath on 1 st May, 1998, at 22 hours, 42 minutes, 11 seconds, having lived a total of 86 years, 316 days, 4 hours, 39 minutes and 13 seconds. His soul was unsuccessfully harvested by Shinigami Hiru_.”

“Wait, what? Did you say ‘ _un_ successfully harvested’?” Evey said weakly. She felt nauseous all of a sudden.

“Aye, that’s what it says.” Ted showed her the page.

“Give me that,” the Ripper commanded. She ripped the book out of his hands, dropping Sirius’s unceremoniously to the ground. “That’s impossible. I’ve never seen that anywhere. What does it even mean?” she complained loudly. “What the fuck, you puny gods? Where’s the bloody Wolf now?”

_I want to speak to a manager_ , Evey thought wryly. She was trying to keep a positive attitude, but these two simple words worried at her. _Unsuccessfully harvested._ Greyback would never leave her alone, would he? Even from beyond the grave, he found ways to ruin her life. “We saw them burn his body,” she murmured. “He’s gone. Tony and I saw him die,” she said forcefully.

“Hey, maybe it just means that he didn’t make it to the afterlife,” Tony said. “That he’s stuck in limbo or whatever. Or maybe there was no soul to harvest. Who cares? We know that he’s dead. Don’t worry about it, V.”

“You’re right,” she said. “We have much more important things to worry about.” She breathed deeply. “Let’s put that book back where it belongs.” The words were barely out of her mouth that it shot off the Ripper’s hands. “Sirius’s book, too.” It was lifted from the ground by an invisible hand then projected to the far end of the Library. “It’s time to go.”


	5. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Getting inside the Department of Mysteries turned out to be ridiculously effortless. It was almost embarrassing, really. Tony had been expecting concealed traps, vicious hexes, fearsome creatures, dozens of alarms blaring to recall hundreds of Unspeakables.

Instead, the Ripper had simply taken control of the mind of the first Unspeakable they’d encountered and the enthralled woman had led them right inside the Death Chamber. No one had stopped them or even questioned their presence and the woman had departed without making a fuss. The chamber was empty, save for the archway.

Tony had entertained a faint hope that it would have been removed, or destroyed, after the events of two years ago, but no such luck. He felt guilty for thinking that, but he truly wasn’t looking forward to this…adventure, as the other two idiots kept referring to it. Demons were the worst. They were cunning, deceiving, and usually smelled pretty bad besides. And he had no idea what to expect on the other side of the veil.

“That’s it?” the Ripper asked with a disappointed scowl. Her arms were crossed over her chest. “That…crumbly pile of stones with a tattered curtain is a portal to the legendary Demon Realm?”

It didn’t look like much, admittedly, especially from this new perspective. Last time he’d been here, Tony had been fighting a large group of Death Eaters, Evey had been captured by Greyback, and Walden had died. The mysterious archway that had engulfed Sirius had been the last thing on his mind. It _was_ creepy, though. He’d assumed that the Ripper would love it, if only for that reason, but she didn’t look impressed.

Ted was studying it attentively. “It’s unassuming,” he declared finally. “Perfect disguise. The whisperings of the damned are a nice touch. I like it.” Well, at least the archway had Blackbeard’s seal of approval.

The Ripper shrugged. “Let’s go, then.”

She didn’t wait for their assent. She walked up to the archway and didn’t stop walking. A moment later, she was gone. Tony gaped after her. “She just…” There had been no hesitation. It was like taking a stroll in a perfectly safe environment, to her.

He glanced at Ted, who chuckled. “Guess she’s got the right of it.” Without another word, he marched confidently toward the veil and vanished behind it.

Just like that, huh? Tony wished he had the other two’s fearlessness. Or brainless courage, whichever it was.

He took a last look around the chamber. Evey and Walden wanted to accompany them at least into the Department of Mysteries, but it seemed silly to waste their time just so they could say goodbye here, instead of doing it at home. Besides, Evey had firmly refused to use the word “goodbye”. It sounded too final. She’d given them a simple “see you later” instead and had smiled that infuriatingly optimistic smile of hers. It was now seared into Tony’s brain; it might be the last thing he’d remember of her.

He inhaled deeply, something he almost never did anymore. He missed them already. He could only hope that they would see each other again.

Releasing the air from his non-functioning lungs, he stepped inside the portal.

* * *

“When was the last time you visited Newt?” Evey wondered as they approached the quaint little cottage. It looked tiny, but Walden had explained that Newt Scamander, like Walden himself, owned a rather large expanse of fields and woods. The cottage was the only inhabited house in the area, the nearest neighbour living twenty miles away. The place was eerily quiet but, according to Walden, that was because of the numerous Muggle-repellent wards and associated Muting charms.

They had left Malkoran behind at the manor, at his own request. He wanted to go over Evey’s notes on Pandemonium while they sought out Nicolas Flamel’s last-known address.

“The year of the hippogriff scandal at Hogwarts,” Walden said. “You know, with the Malfoy lad. I knew that Buckbeak wasn’t really at fault, that Draco had provoked him, but Lucius convinced…well, bought the judge, and Buckbeak was sentenced to death. I just needed someone to vent to about the unfairness of it all. I _hate_ executions.”

Evey patted his arm. Luckily, she hadn’t had to deal with that part of the job yet. She wished the Ministry would hire someone else to handle the occasional killing. She made a mental note to take it up to Kingsley later.

"I was in contact with him more recently than that, though," Walden went on. "When you were kidnapped. I thought he had connections with some werewolves who might know where to find Greyback, but it was a dead end. And I attended his wife's funeral, which was just before Tony returned from the dead."

They’d reached the door, which was painted a vivid yellow. The knocker was shaped like a mini dragon. She made a second mental note: get a new knocker for their own front door. Walden didn’t bother to knock, though. He simply opened the door and walked in.

“Um…won’t he freak out if we just walk in unannounced, especially at this hour?” It was almost midnight. “How old is he? A thousand?”

“A hundred and one,” Walden said. “But don’t worry about it. He’s rarely inside the house, so he doesn’t hear when people knock. And he doesn’t sleep much.”

The inside was quite cramped, Evey noted. They’d taken three steps and were already in the living room. There were books everywhere, sheets of parchment, quills. Every wall was covered in paintings or drawings of animals and magical creatures. Over the chimney mantle, two larger frames took centre stage. One was a sketch of a white hedgehog, the other a portrait of a pretty young woman.

“That’s Porpentina Goldstein,” Walden commented when he saw Evey looking. “Newt’s wife. The hedgehog is…”

“…the Questing Beast,” Evey finished for him. “That fucking bastard.”

“Precisely,” he said with a small smile. “Ah, I see Newt. He’s on the porch with Milly.” Evey shot him a curious glance. “His pet kneazle. Well, one of them. Oh, and he has another visitor, apparently.”

Evey squinted, but she didn’t have Walden’s enhanced night vision. “Do you think he’d mind if I visited the loo quickly?” she asked. She cursed herself for not going at home before departing but, in her impatience, she’d forgotten to do a bladder check.

“Nah, go ahead. It’s the last door on the left,” he said, pointing toward a narrow corridor. “I’ll be outside with him.”

Evey made her way to the bathroom and came out a minute later. As she was about to follow Walden outside, however, she heard a voice from behind one of the closed doors near the chimney. She glanced outside but she still couldn’t discern anything in the darkness. Her curiosity got the better of her. She knocked softly on the door.

“Yes?” a distracted man’s voice called out. He had a faint American accent. “Come in, grandpa.” As Evey walked in, the young man who’s spoken chuckled. He was writing with a purple quill in a leather-bound notebook. “You don’t have to knock, you know. It’s your-” He cut off abruptly when he saw Evey. “Oh. Sorry, I thought you were…”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I heard someone talk and I… I’m too curious, my husband keeps telling me,” she said abashedly. “He’s gone as far as to use the word ‘nosy’.” She moved forward, extending a hand. “I’m Evey Macnair. Sorry to bother you, sir. My husband and I are just here to see your…grandfather?”

The man shook her hand politely. “Yes. I’m Rolf. Um, Scamander. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Her gaze was drawn to the desk. Beside the notebook was a newspaper: a recent edition of the _Quibbler_. “You read the _Quibbler_!” she said excitedly. She knew that most of the “news” was fake or, at the very least, of dubious source, but Evey liked it regardless. Besides, anything was better than the _Daily Prophet_ , even now that Voldemort no longer had any influence over its content. It was even more boring now that it wasn’t doing any evil propaganda.

Rolf blinked, clearly wondering what was so fascinating about it. “Yes?” he said hesitantly. Gods, he must be thinking that she was mad. First she barged in here uninvited, then commented on his choice of newspaper…

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “It’s just… I know the editor’s daughter.”

That seemed to spark some interest in him. “You know Xenophilius Lovegood’s daughter?”

Well, Luna and Evey were acquaintances at best, but they’d talked before. “Yeah. I hear that she’s going to study magizoology, in fact. Like your grandfather.”

“So am I!” Now he sounded just as excited as Evey did a minute ago. “That’s why I came to Dorset for the summer. Newt has been showing me around the place, teaching me how to care for his…friends.” According to Walden, Newt usually referred to his protégés as his friends, rather than his pets. “I’ve had the best of times! Oh, but I do hope to be in Miss Lovegood’s class. She must be brilliant. She’s a Ravenclaw, isn’t she? Is that the correct name? I’m not entirely familiar with Hogwarts Houses. I studied at Ilvermorny, you see. Mom is Canadian, and my parents live in Toronto, so it was more practical for me to study there than to be shipped overseas for the school year.”

Wow. He had been reluctant to speak at first, but now he couldn’t seem to shut up. Evey was about to come up with a lame excuse to join Walden and Newt outside, but Rolf’s endless flow of personal information was interrupted when someone else walked in. Evey spun and found herself face to face with Charlie Weasley. “Charlie!” she greeted him. They hugged briefly. “It’s good to see you, but what on earth are you doing here?”

“I’m visiting Althea.” Evey frowned. “My dragon,” he clarified. “She was harmed during the Battle of Hogwarts. She’s healing, but it takes time. Newt agreed to let her stay here until she’s fully recovered.”

“Can I…” Evey began to say. Then she remembered that she was here on a mission: to find out where Nicolas Flamel lived, or used to live. She didn't have time to-

“Would you like to see her?” Charlie said with a knowing smile. “Your husband already asked. He’s with her now.”

“Yes, please,” Evey said, feeling like a Muggle kid on Christmas day.

The three of them went outside. The wards that surrounded the cottage had to be quite effective, because Althea was resting right there in the garden; it was a wonder that Evey hadn’t spotted her earlier, when they’d arrived. She was a Swedish Short-Snout of a magnificent silvery blue colour and she was as big as the cottage. She was gorgeous.

The dragon appeared to be asleep; smoke escaped from her nostrils every few seconds. Walden was studying her left wing, which bore the marks of a devastating hex. At Walden’s side, a thin old man sat in a wheelchair with a tartan blanket over his legs. He smiled at Evey when she came into sight. “Ah, you must be Mrs Macnair, then. I’ve heard much about you. Welcome, welcome. Would you like some tea? Tina will put the kettle on, if you’d like. We can all-” He stammered to a halt and there was an awkward moment of silence. “Oh. That’s right. I keep forgetting, don’t I?” He chuckled sadly as Rolf placed a hand on his shoulder. “Well, we can still have tea. I do know how to boil water, at least.”

“Mr Scamander, I think that Evey would like to take a closer look at Althea first,” Charlie said.

“Ah, do call me Newt, lad. How many times must I tell you?” He rolled toward Evey. “You take a good gander at our friend, dear. Rolf and I will prepare the tea. Don’t we have some biscuits left, Rolf?”

“I think so, grandpa.”

“I’ll go with you,” Walden said. He leaned closer to Evey and murmured in her ear. “He told me point blank that he’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three months ago, but he’ll do his best to find Flamel’s address for us.” Unfortunately, like too many afflictions of the mind, Alzheimer’s was not treatable. It could not be cured even by magic. “I’ll be inside. Take your time; it could take a while.”

Evey watched them leave. She’d just met Newt, but she felt bad for him. This was what it would be like, she thought. Walden would die eventually, and she’d be left alone in the world, confused and lost. Well, maybe she wouldn’t get old and suffer from memory loss, but it would be just as terrible regardless. Worse, in fact: at least Newt knew that his predicament would soon be over, that he’d be reunited with his wife before long. If one believed in such things.

“You okay?” Charlie asked quietly.

“Yeah, fine. I’m just sad. He’s not even that old.” By wizards’ standards, he wasn’t. Dumbledore was 119 when he died, and he didn’t die of natural causes. He could have lived another ten or twenty years, easily. The age of the oldest living Muggle was merely the average lifespan of any witch or wizard.

“Walden is genuinely fond of him,” she added. “He’ll be crushed when Newt dies.”

“Many people will be,” Charlie said. “He’s a great man. A good man. It’s not fair, but life rarely is, isn’t it?”

Evey knew exactly what he meant by that. His brother Fred was barely 19 when he was killed. She thought it best to change the subject. “Tell me about Althea, then.”

His face brightened. “She’s seven years old,” he said. “You can tell by the small spikes here on her tail.” Evey followed him to the other end of the dragon. Indeed, there were seven spikes. “She’s barely an adult. As you know, dragons never stop growing, though it slows progressively as they age. She’ll gain another metre or so before she reaches her tenth birthday, and probably another before she hits twenty. She was brought to the Sanctuary when she was about this size.” He showed her with his hands – barely bigger than the mini dragon knocker on the front door, apparently. She must have been so adorable! Ugh. Now Evey wanted a baby dragon.

Well, to be fair, she’d always wanted one.

“How much does she eat?” Evey asked as she walked back toward Althea's head. She didn't fancy staying too close to her rear end. Better safe than sorry.

“Dragons can live quite a long time without sustenance. Newt and I fed her…” He paused to think. “A month ago. A cow from a nearby farm. That should stave off her hunger for a few more weeks.”

“How intelligent is she?”

Charlie laughed out loud. “Much, much more than you’d think. It’s like she hears and understands everything we say, no matter the language we use. But studies have shown that the Short-Snouts are one of the smartest species, and Althea is a female besides.” He grinned at Evey’s smug expression. “Female dragons are notoriously more cunning than their male counterparts. I don’t think we’ve studied that particular trait in humans, though.”

“No need. It’s quite obvious, really.” Althea snored loudly at that exact moment and Evey had a feeling that she was agreeing with her. “Hey, look at that scale near her left eye,” she noted. “It’s a much lighter colour than the others. It's almost white.”

“Yeah, it’s going to fall off.”

Evey frowned. “How do you know?”

“Althea’s at that age where she begins to shed what we call her baby scales. It’s like…you know, humans losing their baby teeth before they get their definitive ones.” He leaned forward and poked delicately at the scale. It came out and stuck to his finger; it was about the size of Evey’s palm.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not in the slightest,” Charlie assured her. “Believe me, if she were hurt, we would know,” he added with a smile. “You see?” He pointed at the spot where the scale used to be. “The one underneath is darker. She’s going to be a gorgeous midnight blue when it’s over, with a silvery sheen. Here,” he presented her with the baby scale. “Keep it. At the Sanctuary, a dragon’s first baby scale is said to bring good luck.”

Evey raised her hands in protest. “I can’t take it! Charlie, it must be worth a small fortune!”

“If I cared about that sort of things, I’d be a billionaire by now,” he said with a shrug. “Could sell all kinds of stuff on the black market, but I don’t. It’s not about the money.”

Evey took the scale. It was surprisingly light. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Thanks.” She placed it delicately in her handbag and glanced at Charlie. “Will you return to Romania when Althea’s healed?”

“Certainly. I had to stay here for her sake, and mum’s, too, but I miss the Sanctuary.”

“Miss anyone in particular there?” Evey asked shrewdly.

“Possibly,” he admitted. “But it’s a secret,” he added in a low voice. “Mum cannot know.”

“Why not? If you have a girlfriend, I’m sure she’d want to know. It’d cheer her up.” Mrs Weasley had taken Fred’s death hard. Well, everyone had, especially George, but Tonks said that Mrs Weasley was likely clinically depressed – and she would know all about it. She’d been going to therapy since the day after Remus’s funeral. Mrs Weasley starkly refused to see a Healer, though.

“Well, it’s…not a girl, actually,” Charlie said, avoiding her gaze.

“Oh, I see,” Evey said conspiratorially. “It’s a dragon, isn’t it? We had our suspicions, but…”

Charlie chortled. “It’s a man, if you must know. A human man. His name’s Anatoly.”

“Is that Russian?”

“Yes. He sort of…fled the Motherland. For…reasons. Found refuge at the Sanctuary, which is fitting, I guess. He’s been there longer than I have. You should see him interact with the dragons. They seem to consider him as one of their own.”

“How long have you been together?” Evey asked curiously.

Charlie hesitated. “Almost five years…”

“ _Five_ _years_?” she exclaimed. “And nobody knows?”

He ignored that remark. “We moved in together two years ago,” he went on. “We have a flat, but we’re thinking about buying a house with a massive garden. Like this one,” he said, gesturing at the large expanse of woods and fields around them.

“What makes you think that your mother will have a problem with Anatoly? Or that anyone else will, for that matter?” Too many wizards were still obsessed with blood purity, but homosexuality was only problematic to (some) Muggles, as far as Evey knew.

“It’s not that.” Charlie sighed. “We’re just… Oh, it’s silly, really. On our fourth anniversary I got a bit drunk and I…proposed. He said yes.”

“You’re engaged!” Evey squeaked. “That’s lovely! Charlie, you _have_ to tell your mother, she’ll be over the moon! You have no idea how worried she was about you, man. We seriously thought that you’d end up an old spinster with dragons instead of cats.”

“But Evey…” he said gently. “Don’t you see the problem here?”

She did not. The union of two people who loved dragons? How could that possibly be a problem?

“We can’t get married,” he explained. “It’s not legal. Not in the UK, not in Romania. And definitely not in Russia," he added bitterly. "Actually, nowhere at all. I checked.”

“Huh,” Evey said slowly. “I…never really thought about that. I just assumed… I mean, even in the wizarding world, it’s not allowed?”

Charlie shook his head ruefully. “I talked to Kingsley about it at Harry’s official birthday party. He’s doing what he can, mostly because his partner has been bugging him about it, but he can’t legalise same-sex marriage without the approval of the Muggle Prime Minister. They have to be in mutual agreement for it to work.”

“And I’m guessing that the Muggles are not quite ready for it yet?” Evey said.

“That’s a euphemism. Kingsley isn’t certain that it’ll happen in his lifetime.”

Ugh, Muggles. “Just get fake married, then,” she suggested.

Charlie cocked his head sideways and scowled in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“You know, you get dressed up, invite a bunch of people you like, exchange vows and rings, have some cake and champagne…the whole shebang, as the Americans say. You do it all, except that you don’t sign a legally-binding piece of paper. Who cares anyway? A wedding is about your loved ones bearing witness to your commitment to each other, about displaying your love to the world. I mean, in essence, it's a massive party and an excuse to get roaring drunk. Proper marriage is only about taxes and other boring, administrative stuff,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not quite the same, I know, but maybe you could do that until it’s legalised? And then you can have a second wedding! It’s all pros and no cons, honestly.”

A smile slowly spread on Charlie’s face. “I know you probably just made this up, but I do like the idea.”

She didn’t know if it was a thing or not, in truth. But why shouldn’t it be? “You know who would like this idea even more? Your mum!”

This time he laughed. “You’re right. We could use something like this to cheer her up. And everyone else, really. The past few months have been difficult at the Burrow..." He trailed off, then nodded with determination. "I’ll talk to Anatoly tomorrow, see what he thinks.”

Evey gave him the thumbs-up. “Perfect. Don’t forget to invite me to the party. I’ll even come!”

“Aw, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding. I did send a thoughtful note and a gift, though.”

“And I dearly appreciate it. That life-sized dragon statue is on display in the garden for all of our visitors to see. It’s very realistic, too.” Ted used to pretend to wrestle the thing for fun, until he found out that there was an actual dragon in the woods. “We should probably head inside,” she added. “Before Walden wonders if we’re flying the dragon without him. He would never forgive me.”


	6. Don't fear the reaper

Tony wasn’t sure what he’d expected. A sensation of flying, of being forcibly pulled inside, travelling through a dark corridor filled with the remains of the dead, their soulless ghosts screaming wordlessly into the void? Well, yes. That’s exactly what he’d expected, but it was not what happened.

He stepped on solid ground in a vast chamber that wasn’t unlike the one he’d left behind. He glanced over his shoulder, to make certain that he’d actually stepped through the portal. From here, the archway looked different. It was in pristine condition, for one thing, as though the stones had been assembled that very day. There was no veil and it was entirely silent. It was just a plain archway with a view on the other side of the chamber.

Tony turned to find Ted and the Ripper getting their first impressions of Pandemonium. In all honesty, if he hadn’t just gone through the archway, he couldn’t have guessed that this was the infamous Demon Realm. The chamber was brightly lit by candlelight. The candles were everywhere; it looked like a Muggle satanic cult had decorated the room to prepare for a summoning ritual. The walls were made of stone, like the floor. The only difference between this chamber and the Death Chamber at the Department of Mysteries were the dozens of doors that surrounded them. They were all neatly labelled, or so Tony assumed, since there were alien symbols etched over each and every one of them.

“WELCOME,” a resonating voice intoned.

Tony nearly jumped out of his skin. He’d assumed that they were alone, but a hooded figure all in black had just materialised at his side. It looked like…well, death. Or Death, capital D. Like the Grim Reaper, except that it held no scythe. Tony swallowed some inexistent bile, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Were they dead?

Ted moved forward, smiling warmly. “Good day, sir. I’m-”

“EDWARD TEACH.” It turned to Tony. “ANTONIN DOLOHOV.” It faced the Ripper. “AND MISS-”

“Yes, we get it, you know our names. No one likes a know-it-all. Who are _you_? Is there a skeleton underneath that cloak?” The Ripper scoffed. “I have to say, I had higher expectations for this place.”

“SORRY TO DISAPPOINT,” the figure said. It sounded oddly aggravated. It crossed its bony arms over its chest cavity. Provided that it was indeed a skeleton. “WOULD YOU HAVE PREFERRED A HORDE OF UNRULY LESSER DEMONS TO WELCOME YOU?” it demanded.

“No, this is fine,” Tony said hastily. “This is great. I feel very welcome, um, sir.”

It nodded approvingly, though the Ripper shot Tony a flat look. “THANK YOU. YOU MAY CALL ME DEATH. NOT SIR.”

Tony couldn’t sweat, but he felt like he would have, if he could. “Are we dead?”

“ARE YOU NOT UNDEAD?” Death had no face that Tony could see, but he felt like it was raising an eyebrow at his stupid question.

“Um, right. So Death…I mean, you…welcome people who cross the portal between our worlds. You don’t actually…kill people when their time comes and harvest their souls with a farming implement.”

Death made a sound that could have been laughter, though it sounded more like metal grating on bone. “A COMPELLING MYTH. ONE OF MY FAVOURITE. IT MAKES ME SOUND SO FEARSOME.” It let its arms fall at its sides. “BUT I AM A TERRIBLE HOST. MAY I OFFER YOU SOME BLOOD?” It turned to Blackbeard. “WE HAVE TEA, AS WELL. THE BEST CHAMOMILLE THIS SIDE OF THE PORTAL.”

Death was offering them tea? This was too weird. Though “weird” was preferable to “fatally dangerous”, Tony supposed. “Death, are we…um, is this Pandemonium?” No reaction. “The Shadowlands?” he tried again. He couldn’t remember all the names and Demon Realm didn’t seem…polite. Was Death a demon, anyway?

Death cocked its hooded head sideways. “WHY, NO. THIS IS THE HOMELAND. THE SHADOWLANDS IS THE WORLD YOU LEFT BEHIND.” Its cloak fluttered, as though it was shivering. “A DREAFUL PLACE, FILLED WITH HUMANS.” It said “humans” as one would say “cockroaches”. “LAWLESS CHAOS REIGNS THERE. IT IS NO WONDER THAT YOU SOUGHT OUR LAND. NUMBER ONE VACATION DESTINATION IN THE MULTIVERSE THREE THOUSAND YEARS IN A ROW. BUT ARE YOU HERE FOR PLEASURE OR BUSINESS?”

Tony hesitated. “Business?” He looked at the other two, but Ted gestured for him to go on. “We’re, ah, looking for someone. Actually, you might have met him.” Sirius had come through the same portal. Had Death welcomed him, too? Tony showed him a picture of Sirius and added that he’d arrived two years ago.

Death pondered this for a minute. “MM. I DON’T GET MANY VISITORS, I MUST ADMIT, SO YOU’D THINK I WOULD REMEMBER ANYONE COMING THROUGH… BUT HE DOES NOT LOOK FAMILIAR, I’M AFRAID. WAS HE AN IMMORTAL VAMPIRE OR WEREWOLF? OR ANOTHER DEMONIC ENTITY, PERHAPS?”

“Oh, no. He’s a wizard.”

There was a long stretch of silence that could only be described as “ominous”. “WIZARD? AS IN…A MORTAL HUMAN BEING? A SLOWLY DECAYING BAG OF FLESH?”

That was one way to put it, Tony supposed. “A human man, yes. One who can do magic.”

“AH. THERE SEEMS TO BE A MISUNDERSTANDING. MORTALS WHO USE THE PORTAL DO NOT COME THROUGH THIS PLACE.”

That couldn’t be good. “Where do they go, then?” Tony found himself selfishly hoping that Sirius had died the moment he’d entered the portal. If that was the case, they could thank Death for its welcome, return the way they’d come and be home in time for supper. Evey would be disappointed, but they'd done everything they could. At least they would know for sure what had happened to Sirius.

Death seemed to hesitate, however. “I…HAVE NO IDEA. I’M IN CHARGE OF WELCOMING DEMONS TO THE HOMELAND. MORTALS ARE NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY. I HAVE NEVER ENCOUNTERED ONE, THANK THE MASTER.”

Did it think they were demons? Well…based on their demonic essence, they could be considered as such, but it was still a bit…insulting. Also, who was this Master whom Death had mentioned? Tony began to ask, but the Ripper spoke right over him.

“Are we done shooting the shit with the Grim Reaper?” the Ripper demanded with marked annoyance. "Black is obviously not here. Let’s keep moving, people.” She followed her own words by walking toward one the many doors that surrounded them. She picked one at random and placed her gloved hand on the handle.

“Wait!” Tony exclaimed. “Death… That door, where will it lead us?” For all they knew, any of these doors could lead them to Sirius, or to their true deaths. Or to this mysterious Master, who was likely Death’s boss and therefore the person in charge around here.

Death seemed to glare at the Ripper, as though she’d committed a major breach in etiquette. “I WAS GOING TO GIVE YOU A PROPER TOUR, SINCE IT IS APPARENTLY YOUR FIRST TIME HERE,” it said primly, “BUT YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY IN A HURRY AND I WOULD NOT WANT TO BE A HINDRANCE.”

“You’re not a hindrance at all,” Tony said soothingly. “On the contrary. We could use some…directions.”

There was a pause as Death decided whether to help them or not, considering the Ripper’s rudeness. It was taking too long to decide, though, Tony could tell. In a moment, the Ripper would open the door. “Death…are you the one who gifted us the Deathly Hallows?”

Death rumbled with laughter. “THE DEATHLY WHAT NOW?” Its cloak seemed to vibrate. “IS THIS SOME SORT OF JEST FROM YOUR WORLD? BECAUSE IT IS INDEED AMUSING, AS IT IMPLIES THAT I HAVE ACTUALLY SET A FIGURATIVE FOOT IN THE DREADED HUMAN LANDS.”

Right. So…there was more than one…Death entity? Tony’s mind was spinning. “Yeah, it’s just me joking around, that’s what I do,” he said with a forced chuckle. “Um, so that door…” he went on tentatively.

Death waved at it. “YOU DEFINITELY DON’T WANT TO OPEN THAT,” it said grudgingly.

The Ripper rolled her eyes, but she removed her hand from the handle. “Which one, then, Bag o’ Bones?”

Tony shot her a warning look but she paid him no attention. “Is there a door that would lead us to the…Master?”

Death’s cloak suddenly went very still. “THE M-” It paused. “WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO-” It cut off with a choking sound.

Tony had a feeling that Death was…nervous. Asking who the Master was would only cause more all-caps stammering, so he discarded the question. “Alright, forget about that,” he said quickly. “Is there anyone who might help us find our friend?”

“THE MORTAL?” Tony nodded curtly. He was beginning to feel impatient. “WELL, UM…MAYBE ONE OF THE SO-CALLED GREAT ONES COULD PROVIDE ASSISTANCE, BUT…”

“But?” Tony pressed it.

“YOU DO NOT WANT TO DEAL WITH THEM. THEY REPORT DIRECTLY TO THE MASTER, AND THEY ARE…NOT VERY NICE.”

Well, big deal. They were demons. Greater Demons, even. “Which one would you say is the least…evil?” Tony asked bluntly. “And where can we find him? Or her, I guess. Or it.” He didn’t know if demons cared about proper gender etiquette, but it was better to err on the side of caution.

“OH, I WOULDN’T KNOW,” Death said with a trace of bitterness. “I AM MERELY THE GATEKEEPER. I DO NOT MINGLE WITH THE GREAT ONES.” It thought it over for a moment, during which Tony caught the Ripper peeking behind another door. He couldn’t see anything, but a bright, red light shone on her face. She closed it, pouting slightly.

Death seemed to have an epiphany. “I KNOW WHO WILL BE DELIGHTED TO ASSIST YOU! THE JANITOR!”

Tony stared at it. With Death as a receptionist, he wasn’t looking forward to meeting the janitor. “You know where we can find him?”

“WELL, YES, THAT’S EASY.” He pointed toward a door, on the opposite side of the room from where the Ripper was standing. She groaned in frustration but began moving as soon as Death indicated the way. “THROUGH THERE. YOU MUST WALK TOWARD THE BLEEDING SORE IN THE SKY FOR APPROXIMATELY THREE HUNDRED CORPSES, AND THEN YOU WILL FIND HIM.”

Bleeding sore in the sky? Three hundred corpses? What unit of distance was _that_? Merlin, Tony hoped that there weren’t actual corpses along the way. “How will we recognise him?”

“YOU CANNOT MISS HIM,” Death said simply.

“Come _on_ ,” the Ripper said. She had reached the door and was gesticulating in their general direction. Ted was already walking toward her. He had remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this conversation.

Tony bowed slightly to Death. “Thank you for the warm welcome and for your assistance. I suppose we will see you again when we return.”

“RETURN?” Death repeated. “YOU MEAN FOR TEA? HOW LOVELY! NO ONE EVER WANTS TO HAVE TEA WITH ME.”

A cold shiver ran down Tony’s spine. “No, I mean, when we come back with our friend to portal back to our home. Though we could stop for tea, I guess,” he added uncertainly.

“YOUR HOME? BUT THIS IS THE HOMELAND. THIS IS YOUR HOME.”

“No, we-” Tony hesitated. There seemed to be no point arguing with Death. “I mean, yes, you’re absolutely right, but our mortal friend should be returned to the human world, don’t you think?”

Death nodded slowly. “I SUPPOSE SO. IT DOESN’T BELONG HERE. BUT WHY WOULD YOU BRING IT HERE?”

“Fledgling, will you move your skinny arse over here? I swear, we’ll leave you behind,” the Ripper called.

Tony glanced at her, then returned his attention to Death. “The portal,” he said with exaggerated care. “We’ll come back to use the portal.” He had a nagging feeling that-

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?” Death exclaimed. It sounded horrified. “FOR ONE THING, I DO NOT WISH FOR THE AWFUL CREATURE TO CONTAMINATE MY CHAMBER WITH ITS NEFARIOUS PRESENCE AND, FOR ANOTHER, IT WOULD BE POINTLESS, BECAUSE THE PORTAL IS _OBVIOUSLY_ ONE-SIDED.” It pointed to the archway which, it was true, looked like a pile of neatly-arranged stones, nothing more. “WHY WOULD ANY SELF-RESPECTING DEMON WILLINGLY TRAVEL TO THE SHADOWLANDS WITHOUT BEING SUMMONED THERE BY AN VILE WARLOCK?”

Ah. There was the first hitch. The first major one, anyway. But Hades had assured them that there were other ways to return home. Tony doubted that Death would be very helpful with that, however, so he simply bowed again and joined his travelling companions at the door.

They had a demonic janitor to find.


	7. The dark deserted house

“Er…are you sure this is the right address?” Evey asked. She was staring at the crumbly old house dubiously. “It doesn’t look like anyone has ever lived here.”

She had a point, Walden had to admit. The place was clearly abandoned and in dire need of various repairs – starting with the roof, which must have collapsed a while ago. He reread the piece of parchment that Newt had given him. _Rue Dante, numéro 7 bis, Quartier de la Sorbonne, Cinquième Arrondissement, Paris._ Well, that was precisely where they were. He’d checked the map several times and had even asked the way to a local _commerçant_. The man, however, had appeared confused by the 7 “bis”. He claimed that he’d lived on this street for decades and had never seen that number. It was right there on the front door, though.

“Maybe Newt…misremembered the address,” Evey said tactfully.

“I don’t think so,” Malkoran said. “Observe the rest of the street: there are modern drawings everywhere, except on this house.” By “modern drawings”, Walden assumed that he meant nonsensical graffiti. “I think that the non-magical people cannot see this place, which is why the shopkeeper looked perplexed by the peculiar house number.”

Evey grinned at him. “Nice solve, detective. Glad we brought you along.” Walden rolled his eyes. He could have figured it out easily himself. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the house is clearly abandoned and has been that way for a long time.”

“Let’s get inside anyway,” Walden suggested. “There might be clues.”

The others nodded and Evey, as expected, was the first inside the house. “Ugh. It reeks.”

“Rats,” Malkoran said. “Mould. Rotten meat.”

“Thanks for the detailed list of stinky things,” Evey muttered. “Very helpful.”

The place was a mess: overturned furniture, the wallpaper was peeling off the walls, there were tiny faeces everywhere and even small bones. It was dark and dank and mouldy. If this was the right place, Flamel and his wife had not inhabited the house in a long time. “Maybe we should look for some sort of secret room where Flamel might have hidden his research,” Walden said.

“I doubt he would have left something so important behind when they moved. Unless… Do you think something bad happened to them? This place looks like it’s been thoroughly rummaged through… And that smell… What if their corpses are still here? What if some ambitious thief came looking for the notes regarding the Philosopher's Stone and-”

“Easy, love,” Walden said with a small chuckle. “Let’s not assume the worst just yet.”

“Mm, actually, Evangeline may be right,” Malkoran broke in. Walden scowled at him. “There could be a corpse somewhere, judging by the stink of rotten meat.”

Uh. “We should keep looking for clues,” Walden said determinedly. “Let’s split up.”

“If this were a horror movie, you’d be the first to die just for saying that,” Evey joked.

Walden smiled and turned left, toward the kitchen. Evey went upstairs while Mal explored the living room. There was little of interest in the kitchen, but the smell was not as strong here so Walden took his time opening all the cabinets. Most of them were filled with preserves. He did notice the dirty dishes in the sink, though. If the Flamels had moved to another house, wouldn’t they have cleaned the place first?

“I found the dead body!” Evey called a moment later. She probably shouldn’t sound so eager when saying that sort of things, but Walden was used to it. “Upstairs bathroom!”

Walden nearly ran into Mal as he exited the kitchen. They stared at each other at the foot of the stairs in a silent match to determine who would go first. “Guys?” Evey called again. Walden was the first to blink, but he didn’t care. He stepped in front of Mal and ascended the stairs quickly.

He immediately wished he’d remained downstairs.

Evey, true to herself, couldn’t seem to decide whether to laugh at or be horrified by the scene: in the bathroom, a man was seated on the toilet, pants down to his ankles. His head was thrown back, his mouth wide open…and a spike was coming out of it. “What the blazes…” Walden whispered.

Evey spun to face him. “I’m guessing that’s not Flamel?” Yeah, she was definitely holding back laughter. Ah, his beloved psychopath of a wife.

“I…hope not,” Walden said. What the fuck had happened here?

“There’s another cadaver nearby,” Malkoran announced. “This way.” Walden followed him reluctantly to the adjacent room, which turned out to be a study. There was a half-torn body in there; only the legs were intact. There was dried blood on the threadbare carpet and more had sprayed on the walls and desk. Beside the mangled corpse was a fallen ceiling fan. On one of the walls, an askew frame revealed…was that a _painting_ of a safe?

“Improbable but weirdly efficient traps,” Evey said with a trace of admiration. Walden nodded absent-mindedly; he couldn’t look away from the body. What a horrible way to die. Though that was nothing compared to the other one, in his opinion. Good gods. “These guys must be would-be thieves, but Flamel booby-trapped the whole place and they weren’t cautious enough. Although,” she added with a chuckle, “the gall of the bloke who decided to take a shit while breaking and entering, honestly.” She affected a serious expression as she turned to Malkoran. “Detective, what is your nose telling you? How long have they been dead?”

“It’s fairly recent, I think. A week at most. It smells like it could have been longer only because of the summer heat, in my opinion.”

“I guess it’s safe to say that they are not part of the Flamel family,” Evey said.

“Squatters or thieves,” Walden acquiesced.

“Alright, well, let’s explore the rest of the house!” Evey said enthusiastically. “Can’t wait to see what else old Nick came up with.”

“Maybe his wife did this,” Walden said. Evey raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it sexist to assume that a man did this?”

“Do you mean it’s sexist to assume that all men are vicious lunatics, or that women are not awesome enough to come with these brilliant booby-trap designs? Either way, my bad. I didn’t mean either of these things. And after all, they were married for a very long time. Maybe that was their hobby as a couple.” She smiled brightly at Walden when she said that.

“I’ve always been partial to baking, but whatever you prefer, love,” he said wryly.

Malkoran cleared his throat. “I think we should visit the cellar,” he said. “When I was downstairs, I sensed something…”

Evey didn't let him finish his sentence. “Yep, let’s go,” she said excitedly, running toward the staircase and jumping down three steps at a time. She was the first in the stone cellar and she’d already alighted her wand. There was nothing here at all, Walden noted when he walked in. The room was deserted, except for an abundance of whitish dust on the floor.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Evey grumbled. “Mal, what did you sense here, exactly?”

“A heat source,” he replied, moving toward the other end. He placed both hands on the wall and pushed every stone, one by one.

“You think there’s a secret room?” Evey asked. She imitated him, pushing more stones.

“Maybe there’s a sequence,” Walden said. “Or it’s some sort of puzzle.” He remained a good distance behind them, trying to see the bigger picture. His brain was working furiously. A heat source, whitish dust on the floor… He was missing something.

“GET BACK!” Malkoran shouted to him. Walden reflexively took several steps back, which likely saved his life. Ahead of him, a small portion of the wall had opened up and fire was pouring out of it. The flames stopped perhaps three inches short of Walden’s torso.

As soon as the fire abated, Evey ran to him. “Bloody hell, are you okay?” She was patting him down quite thoroughly. “Did it get you?”

Fire was deadly to vampires. If he’d been hit, Walden would have burned down to a crisp. That explained the “dust” that covered the floor, at least – it was ash. “I’m fine, V, I’m fine,” he assured her. “Are _you_ okay?” Her right sleeve was in tatters, he noticed.

“Sure, it healed right away, don’t worry.”

He was so used to the words that he didn’t insist. Still, she must have suffered a third-degree burn, at the very least. It must have hurt like hell. “Guess we found the heat source,” he said dryly as Malkoran walked back to them. Most of his shirt had disintegrated and he stood there almost bare-chested. Walden took off his jacket and graciously offered it to the Wolf, who accepted it without a word.

“How nice of you,” Evey said. Did she have to sound so sarcastic? He _was_ being nice!

“Well, obviously there’s nothing here,” Walden said. “The Flamels were not messing around. The whole place is a death trap. We should go.”

“But that’s the only lead we have,” Evey complained. “What are we going to do now?”

Someone whistled in amazement. “ _Eh bien, vous êtes solides, vous trois_. _Comment vous dites, déjà? ‘_ Colour me impressed’?” It was a woman’s voice.

Walden cocked his head toward the staircase. The stranger sat at the top. She was holding a slender wand in her right hand and…was that a Muggle gun in the other? “Um, hi,” he said hesitantly. “Are you…a Flamel? A relative? One of their descendants, perhaps?”

The woman scoffed. “ _Ah, vous, les Anglais, vous présumez toujours que le monde entier parle votre langue, n’est-ce pas?_ ”

Walden’s brain translated automatically: “You British people, you always assume that everyone speaks your language.” Well, that was…not completely untrue. “ _Je parle français_ ,” Walden told her in Molière’s language. “ _Désolé. C’est juste que mon épouse n’en comprend pas un mot_.” Just as he explained that his wife couldn’t understand a word of French, Evey squinted at them both in turn, obviously wondering what was being said.

The newcomer shrugged delicately. “ _Tant pis pour elle_. _C’est pas mon problème. Et vous êtes qui, au fait?_ _Qu’est-ce que vous foutez ici?_ ” She reminded Walden strongly of Jeanne. Were all French ladies so vulgar?

“What’s she saying?” Evey demanded. “I didn’t get any of that.” Walden was about to translate, but Malkoran was already on it.

Walden rolled his eyes, but he returned his attention to the woman. He had to find out who she was and whether or not she could help them. “ _Je m’appelle Walden. Voici Evey et…Adam._ ” They’d agreed to use Malkoran’s “official” name (the one written on his falsified ID card) if they needed to introduce themselves to strangers. _“Nous cherchons quelque chose. Des informations qui pourraient potentiellement sauver une vie._ ”

Behind him, Malkoran translated for Evey in a low voice. “He gave her our names and then he added that we’re looking for information that could potentially save a life.”

The woman’s nose crinkled slightly in amusement. “ _Votre accent est absolument adorable_ ,” she said. Yes, well, that was hardly pertinent. Walden knew that he had an accent, but at least she understood him. After a moment, she sighed heavily. “ _Bon, d’accord, je l’admets, vous m’avez l’air plutôt sympathiques, pour des intrus._ _Suivez-moi._ ” Without waiting for a reply, she stood, holstered her gun but not her wand, then started to walk away purposefully.

Walden signalled to the others. “She says she thinks we’re nice trespassers and she wants us to follow her. Come on.”

* * *

Evangeline was unhappy with how the situation had developed. That was quite obvious, though Malkoran was not sure why. After all, they had survived the House of Horrors and her husband had narrowly escaped death; she should rejoice. True, they had found no relevant information regarding the Philosopher’s Stone, but their guide – who had introduced herself as Estelle Rivière – must know something. Why would she bother escorting them out of the house if she meant to (try to) kill them?

Malkoran took some time to study Estelle. He couldn’t tell how old she was; younger than Walden, certainly, but older than Evangeline; in her late twenties or early thirties, then. Given her complexion, he guessed that she was a native of one of France’s exotic Overseas Departments and Territories. She was rather tall, with the graceful silhouette of a _mannequin_. Her dark hair was pulled up in a neat bun. She was wearing a white and turquoise summer dress with large floral patterns, a blue silk scarf and platform sandals that didn’t seem to hinder her in any way on the uneven paved stones of the Parisian streets. She smelled of artificial vanilla and coconut, a pleasant change from the stink of rotting corpses. He also noticed that she bore several discreet tattoos: one on each ankle, one on the inside of her left wrist and another on the back of her swan-like neck.

 _Alchemical symbols,_ he realised. Yes, they were certainly on the right track.

They didn’t walk for very long. They passed the church of Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre then soon arrived at their destination: a small bookstore with a green façade called _Shakespeare and Company_. Estelle pulled a key out of her handbag and opened the front door.

“ _Entrez vite_ ,” she ordered them.

“Get in quickly,” Mal translated for Evangeline, though she was already stepping inside.

It was quite cosy. There were a few comfortable chairs and several non-magical lanterns. Lamps. Whatever. It was, as expected, filled with overflowing bookshelves. Most of the titles were in English, Mal noted, which made sense, given the name of the store.

Estelle took a seat in a green leather chair, crossed her long legs, then began to talk in rapid French. She didn’t offer them a seat. Walden and Malkoran exchanged a look and, for once, there was no silent staring contest, no argument: Walden focused on the conversation while Mal translated for Evangeline.

“’You have two minutes to explain what you were doing at the old house. You had better be very convincing. You seem hard to kill, but make no mistake: I’ll find a way.’” Evangeline snorted at that, but she did seem oddly intimidated.

Malkoran translated Walden’s parts, too. The vampire didn’t bother to lie. A wise decision, in Mal’s opinion. “’We’re looking for Nicolas Flamel’s research notes on the Philosopher’s Stone. We need the Elixir of Life to help a friend who is in mortal danger.’”

“’And how exactly is that supposed to save his life? The elixir keeps people alive, but it’s not a cure-all,’” Estelle retorted. She chuckled lightly. “’Besides, you’d have to create a new Stone, first. Nico’s was destroyed years ago.’”

“’So you knew him,’” Walden said.

Estelle’s brown eyes bore into him. “That is none of your business. What I’m telling you is that your venture is futile. Even if you had his notes, it would not help you. Whatever ails your friend, the Elixir of Life has no healing power and it is flawed besides.’”

“’Can’t it reattach a person’s soul?’”

According to Walden and Evangeline, the late Lord Voldemort had sought to steal the Philosopher’s Stone several years past in an attempt to reform after being reduced to a non-corporeal entity – to reattach his loose soul to a body, so to speak. Which was more or less what they’d need to do to Sirius Black, apparently.

Estelle was silent for a minute, her calculating gaze shifting from Malkoran to Evangeline then eventually fixating on Walden again. “’I can’t believe you people,’” she muttered. “’Will you never give up?’” The three of them exchanged confused looks. “’He’s dead!’” she hissed. “’Your supposedly immortal overlord is _dead_. Just accept it and move on with your pathetic lives, you stupid _Mangemorts_.'" It took Malkoran a moment to remember the appropriate term in English. "Death Eaters," he translated eventually. Evangeline's eyes widened. "'I’m tired of rewiring the booby-traps all the time,'" Estelle went on. "'Do you have any idea how time-consuming it is to get rid of dead bodies?’”

“Oh, no no no,” Evangeline said quickly. “Um, there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re not trying to bring back Voldemort. No Voldemort,” she repeated, enunciating with great exaggeration.

Estelle looked up at her with a moue of disdain. “I never said that I didn’t speak English. I _choose_ not to speak it, but I understand it perfectly; there’s no need to talk to me as if I were severely retarded.” Her French accent was heavy on the words, but her English was flawless. Evangeline flushed and stared at her feet in embarrassment.

Walden coughed to draw Estelle’s attention on him. Malkoran resumed his interpreter’s work as they continued the conversation in French. “’We are not Death Eaters, Miss Rivière. In fact, we worked hard to defeat Voldemort and lost many good people, including the person we’re now trying to save. We need the Elixir of Life for him, not for the Dark Lord.’”

“’How can you hope to save your friend if he’s already lost?’” Estelle asked after a moment of consideration. “’Are you hoping to resuscitate him, somehow? No elixir in the world can do that, you know.” She paused again. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What happened to this person, exactly?’”

Walden sought his wife’s eyes. Evangeline nodded in silent assent. “’He fell through a…portal, of sorts. We’re currently trying to-’”

“’He went to Pandemonium,’” Estelle broke in. Malkoran used a word that Evangeline would understand, but the French name for the place was interesting: _le Royaume des Damnés,_ the Kingdom of the Damned. It was not quite accurate, but it had a nice ring to it.

Walden was gaping slightly. “’You…know of it?’”

She gestured impatiently. “’Of course I do. I’m an alchemist. But where is your friend now?’” When no one replied, she sneered. “’Still in there, is he?’” She shook her head. “’You do realise that he’s unlikely to be retrieved, yes? Whoever goes looking for him, they’d better be prepared, otherwise they’ll suffer the same fate.’”

“You seem to know an awful lot about that place,” Evangeline said suspiciously. “Are you immortal, or are you a demon?”

Unexpectedly, Estelle laughed. “You silly girl,” she said in English. “I am neither. No one is truly immortal, for one thing,” she went on reasonably, “and for another, demons cannot assume a physical form in this plane, not even the Great Ones. I know, because I have summoned many of them over the years.”

Malkoran sighed softly. People _had_ to stop summoning demons all over the place. She was correct, however, so he knew that she was telling the truth. Fenrir had appeared to him as a gigantic but unsubstantial wolf, though His lack of substance in no way diminished how dreadful and terrifying He was.

Estelle decided that she’d humoured Evangeline long enough and switched back to her native language. “’I know these things because I have read about Pandemonium. In Nicolas’s research notes,” she added slyly.

“’So you do have them,’” Walden said.

“What do you want for them?” Evangeline asked without preamble as soon as Malkoran finished translating. “We don’t have time to negotiate. Just name your price.”

Estelle tsked, but she replied once again in English. “So hasty! But as you wish: I want to know how you survived the Inferno trap at the house.” She pointed at Evangeline’s burnt sleeve. “If you tell me, I will not only give you the notes, I will also assist you in saving your friend. I’m just nice like that,” she said coyly.

“We don’t need your help. Just the notes,” Evangeline insisted.

Estelle smirked. “Believe me, girl, you will need me. Me and my friend here,” she said as she slowly took off her scarf. Underneath it, clasped around her delicate throat, was a golden chain with a pendant. A glowing, crimson pendant.


	8. Do not disturb my circle

The door closed behind him and disappeared immediately, Tony noticed with some unease. He looked around and found himself in a desert-like environment. The red, rocky landscape reminded him of pictures of the Sonoran Desert, without the cacti. Or any sort of plant or animal life, really. It felt like Ted, the Ripper and he were utterly alone. There was not a sound, no cricket chirping, no fly buzzing. As far as the eye could see, the place was a gigantic wasteland.

Tony briefly wondered if Death had purposefully misled them – after all, it had warned them that demons were deceitful – but Ted grabbed his sleeve to get his attention and pointed to the sky.

Tony had been so focused on the ground that he hadn’t even noticed what was above him. The cloudy sky was tinged a dull but persistent yellow, except at the spot Ted was indicating. There was a large, bleeding sore in the sky, just like Death had said there would be. It looked like an impossibly huge monster had ripped it open with a claw. It was a bright crimson and it seemed to be raining blood.

Well, at least they were in the right place. “I guess we should go that way?” Tony said.

The Ripper was already on the move. “Bet your arse we are. We’ve lost quite enough time chit-chatting with that thing back there.”

Ted and Tony glanced at each other, then shrugged and followed her. She had the shortest legs in the group, but she was faster than either of them and they had a hard time keeping up. At least Tony couldn’t get short of breath.

Now all they had to do was walk over the distance of three hundred corpses, however long that may be.

Ted was uncharacteristically silent, Tony noted. He’d barely said a word since they’d crossed the portal into Pandemonium. “Everything alright, mate?” Maybe he regretted leaving Middle-earth to find himself in this bare wasteland. Tony would totally understand if he did, having visited the Elves himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ted replied absent-mindedly.

That was convincing. “Are you…hungry?”

Ted sniggered. “Don’t treat me like I’m a swaddled babe. I don’t need the teat.”

“Sorry. You’re just…quiet. It’s weird.”

Ted inhaled sharply, then let the air out slowly. “Guess Pandemonium is not exactly what I’d made it out to be. I expected demons. I expected blood and darkness and the wails of the dead.”

“Well, actually…”

“I know. This is not where the dead go.” He shrugged. “You gotta understand, I was raised in a time when we feared to go to Hell after death.” He let out a bitter chuckle. “Never believed in all that crap, of course. Which is why meeting Death was so…” He trailed off, at a loss for words.

“Yeah, I understand,” Tony said. “I was a bit rattled, too.” Especially at learning that Death wasn’t Death. Or not the only one, anyway.

“Ah, well. I’m sure we’ll see a thousand more bizarre things while we’re here, eh?” Ted said more confidently. He seemed to be returning to his cheerful, optimistic self.

“I certainly hope so!” the Ripper shouted from several metres (corpses?) ahead of them. “And we’ll see them all the sooner if you walk faster, my furry friend.” Ted chortled. Yep, he was back to normal.

They walked for an immeasurable number of minutes before the Ripper called a halt. Tony was beginning to understand what Evey meant when she told them that time worked differently in this place. He had no idea how long they’d been here and his watch had stopped.

The Ripper spoke in a low voice when they caught up to her. “There. At nine o’clock.” Tony frowned. He’d never understood what that meant and his watch was now useless. The Ripper rolled her eyes at him. “By Lilith, you’re dense.” She grabbed his head and turned it in the right direction.

Before Tony could tell her that using _Her_ name while they were in Pandemonium may not be the brightest idea, he saw what she’d been trying to show them. A hulking figure, slightly hunched, moving in a circle, holding what may be a sort of cumbersome spear. It seemed human in shape, though nearly twice the size of an average man. The skin was pale, the shaggy hair and beard a pure silver that shone faintly. The demon was wearing what looked like a blue janitor’s uniform.

The trio moved forward cautiously. The creature didn’t appear to notice them; it was apparently engrossed in its task. As Tony approached, he realised that it wasn’t a spear at all but a massive push broom. The demon was sweeping the bare ground in a circle around him. It looked like it’d been working on that spot for a long time.

The demon finally raised its head as they came close to the circle. Its eyes were glowing silver. Was it blind? “Hello, friends!” it yelled in a booming voice that startled even the Ripper a little.

The three of them looked at each other. Who was going to handle this one? Apparently, it wasn’t much of a question. Ted nudged Tony forward and the Ripper shrugged. It clearly wasn’t her type of demon. Too nice. Too polite. Not aggressive enough.

Tony cleared his throat and was about to ask the demon for its name, but then he noticed a tattered name tag on its uniform. It read “Bob”. A demon named Bob? Or had it stolen the piece of clothing from a giant human who had perished in atrocious suffering and anguish?

“Can I help you, little demons?” To be fair, Janitor Bob seemed pleasant enough.

Tony smiled at it. Him? “Um, pleased to meet you…Bob?” The janitor beamed. Was he simple-minded? “I’m Tony. These are my friends, Ted and…Jack.”

“Those are great names!” Bob shouted. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you. So…Death sent us to you. It said that you might be able to help us.”

“Of course! Bob always helps his friends.”

The Ripper snorted but Ted silenced her with a look. “Go on, mate, you’re doing great,” he told Tony encouragingly.

“We’re looking for a mortal man named Sirius Black.” Then he remembered that Evey had made him pack a picture of Sirius and extracted it from his pocket. It was one of the photographs Sirius had taken on Christmas Day, two years ago. Harry and Remus surrounded him, grinning like loons. “That’s him in the middle. Do you know him?”

Bob examined the photograph, his face scrunched up in concentration. “No…” he said eventually, with obvious chagrin. “Sorry.”

“Alright, that’s fine. Do you maybe know where mortals go, when they arrive here through the portal?”

Bob winced. “Bob hates portals.”

Bob couldn’t possibly fit through a portal, Tony thought. “Yes, portals are the worst,” he humoured the giant. “But do you know-”

“Mortals don’t belong here,” Bob said emphatically. “They are not demons, and this is the Homeland. Of demons.”

The Ripper was shaking with laughter, but at least she was doing it silently.

Ted took a step forward. “Does that mean that mortals are killed when they accidentally land in this place?”

“Oh, we don’t kill anybody. The Master has a plan for everyone. Bob’s task is to sweep the circle.” He proudly showed them his broom.

Tony noticed that the circle was finite; it was separated from the rest of the ground by a thick, silvery line. “And, um, why are you sweeping this particular circle, Bob?”

“Because the Master said to do it,” Bob replied, as though it was obvious. “’Always keep the circle neat, Bob. That’s your job, and it is essential.’ The Master said so.”

The Ripper wasn’t laughing anymore. “Who is that bloody Master you people keep going on about?”

Bob stared at her open-mouthed. “We don’t say the Master’s name, Jack,” he said in a lowered voice, which could probably still be heard ten corpses away.

She huffed in frustration. “I am going to find Death and fucking kill it!” she vowed. “I bet it sent us here just to get on my nerves.”

“Well, you weren’t very nice to it,” Tony pointed out.

“Ugh! Who cares? They’re _demons_. They’re supposed to be savage monsters, not child-like giants or posh skeletons!”

“Bob is not a giant,” Bob muttered crossly. He recoiled as the Ripper shot him a baleful glare, despite the fact that he could have easily crushed her with his bare hands. Provided that he could get out of his circle.

“Bob… Are you a greater demon?” Tony asked, though he already knew the answer.

Bob shook his head forcefully. “Bob is the janitor.”

“Ok, right, but do you know where we can find one? Any of them?” Tony insisted. At this point, it was their best shot. Bob was proving to be as useless as Death had been.

Bob frowned, his silver eyes glinting under bushy eyebrows. “Bob knows one. But he’s a bad one.”

“That’s our problem, not yours. What’s its name? Where is it?” the Ripper demanded.

“No names!” Bob exclaimed. “Never name the Great Ones, or they will hear.”

“We _want_ it to hear us! We want to talk to it,” the Ripper said through gritted teeth.

“No, no. Bob can’t say.” The Ripper seemed about to jump on the janitor and try to strangle it, but Tony put a hand on her arm. She shook it off with a glower. “But Bob knows where you must go to find him.”

“Praise Lilith,” the Ripper muttered.

Bob let out a wail of terror and dropped his broom. “No names!” he cried out. “Bad Jack! No one may name the Lady of the Night, Daughter of Horror, Her Dreadfulness, Queen of the Damned-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, make him stop blabbering!” she commanded Tony.

Tony gingerly put a foot against the silvery boundary of Bob’s circle. Nothing happened, so he took a step forward and patted Bob’s hand. He picked up the broom and handed it to the janitor. “It’s alright, mate. No one’s coming for you. We just need to know where to find that greater demon, then we’ll be on our way and we’ll take the mean lady with us.”

Bob calmed down after a moment, though he was clutching his broom hard enough that Tony feared he would snap in half as if it were a twig. “You need to get to the portal.” That wasn’t very specific. There were dozens of portals in Death’s chamber. “It’s a short walk,” Bob went on. He pointed toward an especially high rock in the distance. “A hundred corpses or so.”

“That’s…not the way we came from,” Tony remarked. “The portals in Death’s chamber…”

“No, no, wrong portals,” Bob said with palpable fear in his voice. “Avoid the Death Chamber. Too close to the human world. Dangerous. Place of turmoil and chaos.” Well, Death and Bob clearly had the right idea about the human world in general, though Tony couldn’t help but contemplate the irony of it being pointed out by a demon…or whatever Bob was. “There are many portals in the Homeland,” Bob continued, “which allow for quick travel between the various departments, provinces and territories.”

Oh. Death hadn’t mentioned _that_. But perhaps it didn’t know. It didn’t seem to go out of its chamber a lot, even though it had plenty of doors at its disposal. “Alright, so we’ll find a different portal that way and it will lead us to a greater demon. Correct?” Tony recapped.

“Yes. But please, friends, be careful. He is nasty.” It tore at Tony’s heart to hear genuine concern from the janitor. How had this guy ended up here, doing a never-ending, useless sweeping job?

“We’ll be fine,” Tony assured him. “Thanks, Bob. Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime.”

“Gods, I hope not,” the Ripper grumbled.

“Bye, Bob,” Ted said as they moved toward the next portal.


	9. I wasn’t injured. I was lightly stabbed.

The French woman – Estelle River, or something that sounded like that – was retrieving sheets of frail parchment from a safe and piling them onto Walden’s arms. She smiled at him the entire time and Evey was persuaded that she was flirting with him in French. Worse: she was worried that Walden was flirting back. He seemed at ease around Estelle, as if they’d known each other for years. Walden was never comfortable around strangers.

Evey observed the scene glumly while Mal sipped some freshly-ground coffee. They were both seated around a little table. The secret room they’d been looking for at the Flamel’s house was in fact situated underneath the bookstore. It was colourfully and tastefully decorated. It looked like a tiny Parisian café, except that there was only one table. There was also a brown leather couch, a narrow bed, an expensive-looking desk, a small kitchenette in the corner and a minuscule bathroom with only a toilet and a sink. Apparently, Estelle occasionally spent the night here, but she wasn’t the only person to sojourn at the bookstore; it was known to occasionally welcome visitors and offer them bed and breakfast in exchange for a few hours of work. Estelle owned the building but was subletting it to the current shopkeeper. According to her, no one knew that there was a secret basement.

On the plus side, it was completely lightproof, which meant that Walden would be able to rest here during the day – Estelle had already invited him to sleep on the couch or even the bed, if he wanted. How generous of her.

Estelle put one last piece of parchment on top of Walden’s pile then turned to Evey. She said some French gibberish that Malkoran translated. “’The formula is here somewhere, but it’s all written in French and Latin. You won’t be much use to us, I’m afraid. You two should go for a walk or whatever.’” Estelle then proceeded to ignore Evey and Mal and chatted with Walden animatedly as they set the papers on the desk.

Fucking brilliant.

“Are you okay?” Mal asked her. “You smell different than usual.”

She glared at him. “It’s hardly my fault! There’s no shower and it’s the middle of summer. I told Walden we should book a hotel room, but he insisted on packing his coffin instead.” The coffin was in Evey’s purse; they had reduced it to the size of a marble for easy transportation.

Mal chuckled quietly. “That is not what I meant. There’s something…bitter.” Suddenly, his eyes swivelled toward Walden, then back to Evey. “Oh. I see.”

“See what?” Evey demanded.

“You’re jealous. Just like him.”

“Shut up!” Evey exclaimed. She cut off when Walden frowned at her in concern. Malkoran raised an eyebrow. “Sorry,” she went on in a lowered voice. “Just…don’t say that. I’m not… _that_. I don’t trust her, that’s all. She’s probably lying through her perfect white teeth.”

Mal shook his head. “She’s saying that Walden’s scars are quite fascinating. It doesn’t sound like a lie to me.”

“That bitch!” Evey said in a low voice. “She _is_ flirting with him.”

“Oh yes, she most certainly is. She’s been saying that sort of things for the better part of an hour now.”

Evey shot him an outraged look. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Because your husband has been skilfully deflecting her advances thus far. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if he shows any sign of interest,” he said casually.

Evey huffed. “Are they even discussing the matter at hand at all?”

Estelle had explained that the Elixir of Life, on its own, in the form that Nicolas Flamel used to consume, would be of little help to them. It kept people alive, but that was about it. It didn’t even slow the aging process; according to her, Flamel and his wife looked like decrepit mummies at the end of their lives.

There was, however, if she remembered correctly, a formula designed specifically to reattach the soul of a person who’d entered Pandemonium. Apparently, Nicolas Flamel had not visited the Demon Realm himself, but he had been approached by a team of British wizards who had discovered the portal that was now stored at the Ministry of Magic. Estelle assured them that he’d come up with a solution, eventually. For decades, he had worked on a remedy, testing it on the various people who’d stumbled into Pandemonium (those who had returned, anyway). By the time he perfected the cure, however, only one of them was still alive. After that initial incident, the Unspeakables had deemed the archway a dangerous artefact and had kept it under lock within the Department of Mysteries.

When questioned about how she knew so much about Flamel’s research, Estelle had admitted to be his last apprentice. Since the Flamel were childless, old Nicolas had made her his heiress, the sole person allowed to lay eyes on his precious notes. She claimed that the first thing she’d done upon his death was to create another Philosopher’s Stone, which she had kept to herself so as not to draw unwanted attention. She’d done that despite Flamel’s insistence that she should absolutely not, under no circumstances, do that.

It was entirely plausible. It made sense. There were no holes in her story that Evey could see. She had no reason not to believe her. And yet…

There was something wrong about the woman. She’d already asked Mal about it, but he’d replied that, underneath the pleasant, exotic scent of vanilla and coconut lay only the sharp smell of confidence, ambition and cunning.

A true Slytherin, Evey thought with irritation. Compared to Estelle, Evey was a meek Hufflepuff and it grated her, alright. That, and the way Estelle kept touching Walden’s arm whenever he opened his bloody mouth.

“She is not talking about the Elixir, nor about the Stone,” Mal admitted. “She says he has the most mesmerising eyes she’s ever seen.”

“That’s it.” Evey stood up and marched toward the desk. She clasped Walden’s shoulders firmly. Hopefully a bit painfully. “Found anything yet?” she asked with nonchalance. “We’re in a bit of a hurry, you understand.”

Estelle answered her in French with a bright smile. Walden translated for Evey. “She says…” He hesitated. “Um, no, not yet. Don’t worry, love, I’m working on it.”

Evey leaned forward and spoke in his ear. “Thank you, Mr Mesmerising Eyes.” Without another word, she returned to the table. Malkoran had spilled some of his coffee and was coughing as if the bitter drink had gone down the wrong way. Evey sponged off the coffee with a napkin while he recovered.

“Should we go for a walk?” she said. “I wouldn’t mind getting some fresh air.” It would mean leaving Walden alone with Estelle, but she had to show him that _she_ , unlike him, trusted him completely. “And some croissants,” she added for good measure.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Mal pointed out. “Bakeries are closed, I believe.”

“But I’m starving!” Evey complained. She’d had her last meal almost six hours ago, a measly bag of crisps.

Malkoran stood up gracefully. “I’m sure we’ll find something. At worst, I’ll catch a pigeon for you and you can roast it with magic.”

It was so weird to hear him joke. What had happened to him these past few months? Maybe Draco Malfoy’s sarcasm had rubbed off on him.

Then again, maybe he wasn’t joking.

Malkoran briefly explained to the other two that they were stepping outside for a moment. Evey was already heading toward the stairs. The staircase led to an abandoned storage room on the top floor, which was hidden behind one of the bookshelves. The only way to open it was with magic, so Evey extracted her wand from her handmade holster – a gift from Tony for her birthday. Seconds later, they were strolling along the Seine on the Quai de Montebello under a full moon. They had a great view of the famed Cathedral of Notre-Dame, though Evey wasn’t sure what the big deal was. It was just another boring religious edifice.

“I would kill for some fish and chips right now,” she muttered.

Malkoran chuckled lightly. “Are you already homesick? It’s only been a few hours. Besides, I thought you wanted croissants.”

“Honestly, any food will do. Here, I’ll have that pigeon, please,” she went on, pointing at the nearest one. The birds were everywhere.

“Too many people around,” Mal whispered. “We wouldn’t want to look like a couple of tourists chasing after the pigeons.”

“I doubt that it’s a common thing for tourists to do,” Evey noted. Except perhaps the American ones. They probably shot the pigeons for fun while shouting _yee-haw_. “But you’re right, we should move on to a quieter street. Seriously, it’s almost four in the morning. Why’s everybody outside?”

Mal shrugged. “It’s Paris. The city never sleeps.”

They retraced their steps to the old Flamel house and halted in front of it. “We never asked Estelle about the dead blokes,” Evey said. “Who were they, do you think? Thieves, or Death Eaters?”

“The two are not mutually exclusive,” Mal remarked. “Though it seems to me that Voldemort’s demise was well advertised. I can’t imagine what Death Eaters would be after.”

“Belated revenge?” someone supplied helpfully.

Evey and Mal spun at the same time. The Rue Dante was empty, except for the five black-clad people standing in the middle of the street. They were wearing masks, but the man who’d spoken removed it as he moved forward, wand raised.

Travers.

What the hell? Wasn’t he supposed to be in Azkaban? Evey remembered Stunning him during the Battle of Hogwarts but she didn’t know what had happened to him afterwards. There had been many Death Eaters to keep track of and Evey had been mostly focused on finding Rodolphus Lestrange. Was he there, too? If so, this could be her chance. She pulled out her own wand and aimed it at Travers’s chest. “One more step and you’re dead,” she warned him.

He sneered. “Do you really think you can take me when my back isn’t turned, you cowardly shitling?”

“That’s not even a word!” Evey exclaimed. “Gods, you’re the worst.”

“Incapacitate?” Mal asked in a low growl. He was seconds away from transforming into a werewolf, Evey could tell. With the full moon, the process would be even faster than usual.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said reluctantly. She didn’t want the karma of that arsehole’s death on her soul. Plus Walden would be cross if she killed anyone and, if he was mad at her, he might decide to leave her for Estelle.

Okay, she was spiralling. “I’ll take the leader. Have fun with the-”

Travers used non-verbal magic. She’d forgotten that little detail. His wand barely even _moved_.

She’d made a stupid mistake. A classic _villain_ mistake: too much talking, not enough focusing on the enemy.

There was a flash of apple green light – ooh, pretty – and then something hit Evey’s leg. She didn’t feel any pain but she crashed on the paved stones in an ungainly fashion. When she glanced at the wound, she realised that her right leg was gone, sliced clean just above the knee.

Ah. A Severing Charm. She had definitely not seen that coming. Ten points for originality.

Blood was pooling around her. She was feeling light-headed already. But still there was no pain. She must be in shock. She knew that it would heal quickly, but…

_Holy shit, my leg is fucking gone!_

Mm. Her brain was finally catching up.

Okay, now she was panicking. Her breath caught in her chest. What was she going to do without a leg? Could Tony fabricate a prosthesis that big? _Oh, bloody hell._

She must have passed out for a minute or two. When she came to, Malkoran was crouched at her side. He was wearing one of the Death Eater’s black robes. There was blood all over his face and dripping from his chin. In other words, he looked really hot, in a terrifying way. His face was carefully neutral. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“One-legged,” Evey croaked.

Oddly, that caused him to grin. His teeth were red. “Is that so?” His eyes moved to her lower half and Evey followed his gaze.

Huh. Two legs. Would you look at that.

“I’m…confused,” she said slowly. Had she hallucinated? Had Travers messed with her mind instead of her limb? Then her eyes fell on her _other_ leg. The one that lay, discarded, a foot away from her midsection. Part of her jeans were still on it, while her…new leg was bare. Good thing she’d decided to shave before leaving Scotland. Although, technically, that wasn’t the leg she’d shaved…

Her brain hurt. “Um…”

“Good news!” Mal said with a cheerfulness that was vaguely reminiscent of Ted’s and therefore utterly uncharacteristic. “You can regrow limbs. Like a proper…Wolfcient.” His grin widened. “I would have preferred to find out in another, less brutal way, but hey, all’s well that ends well.”

Evey laughed uncertainly. Was he freaking out? Was this how Malkoran behaved when he lost his inalterable poise? He turned into a normal person?

Well, a normal person on crack?

“Wolfcient?” she repeated. “Seriously?” She laughed harder. She laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks, all the while silently thanking Hades that Walden wasn’t here. If even Mal was freaking out, Walden would have had a stroke, surely.

Malkoran wasn’t laughing, however. When Evey recovered from her near-hysterical bout of laughter, he was staring wide-eyed at her…third leg and muttering under his breath in an unfamiliar language. Then he switched to English. “Your husband is going to murder me,” he murmured.

For some reason, he seemed genuinely worried about that. “You’re immortal, Mal,” she reminded him. “He’s not an Ancient. He can’t really do you harm.” She didn’t tell him that Walden wouldn’t try to kill him. He probably would.

_If_ he found out about this.

_Oh, not this again. I_ have _to tell him._

“We should move,” Malkoran said brusquely. “I hear people approaching.”

“What about the…” Evey glanced at her severed leg.

“Do you know a spell that would make it disappear, perhaps? I could eat it, but it might make things awkward between us…”

Evey burst out laughing again. Malkoran’s expression reflected his dismay. “I know you were not joking,” she said in-between snorts of belly-hurting mirth, “but gods, Mal. I never knew you were so hilarious. The Bloodmother is really missing out.” Her laughter abated slowly and she wiped the tears out of her eyes. “Just grab my dead leg and let’s get inside the house before anyone sees us.” Now there was a sentence she’d never thought to say.

“Yes, um, there’s just…” Mal said hesitantly. “What about the…”

“Mm?” Evey was in the process of standing up for the first time on her regrown leg. She felt like baby Bambi learning to walk. Her new limb was quite steady, though. It was just like the old one. She took a few steps and, as she did, she saw what Mal was trying to tell her.

_What do we do with the bodies of our enemies?_

Where Evey had last seen Travers, there was now a puddle of blood and scattered bits of human…matter. Behind it were four more mangled corpses. Evey gaped at the scene, eyes wide. “What the fuck did you do?” she said weakly.

“Well, you told me to incapacitate them,” Mal began to say.

Evey snorted inelegantly. “I didn’t mean permanently! That’s the difference between ‘incapacitate’ and ‘kill’, mate. The former is supposed to be temporary, the latter permanent.”

“I panicked, yes? You were…badly injured, Evangeline. I did not think that you would… I thought you were…”

There was no time to give him a proper scolding or to hear his reasons for this carnage. Now even she could hear people coming. “How fast can you carry them inside the house? I’ll try to clean up the blood as best I can.” She rolled up her sleeves and retrieved her wand, which had escaped her hand when she’d fallen. What was the spell that Tony had used to remove the blood, after they’d killed Greyback? Ah, yes. “ _Mundo_!”

In all honesty, given the amount of blood, she hadn’t expected it to work at all. Yet, after a few repetitions, the street was mostly clean. She sprayed some water to disperse the rest of the blood, then picked up her own leg, since Mal was busy with the Death Eaters. By the time she entered the Flamel house, every body part was safely put away from Muggle sight.

* * *

“So you see, there’s no cause for alarm or concern,” Evey told Walden pragmatically.

He was staring at her open-mouthed. There were both sitting uncomfortably in Estelle’s tiny bathroom, Evey on the closed toilet and Walden on the floor. Evey had wanted some privacy. When Malkoran and she had returned from the Flamel house, the sun was already rising and they’d found Walden asleep on the couch. Estelle was gone, but she’d left a short note (in French, of course): she’d be back by nightfall. Evey had slept with Walden on the couch for most of the day and Mal had napped for a few hours on one of the chairs. Now Estelle was back and cooking some dinner. Evey was loath to admit it, but it smelled delicious. She hadn’t eaten anything at all since they’d left Scotland. She was so hungry that she could eat her own leg right now.

Unfortunately, only Mal would understand that hilarious joke. She may have omitted that part when recounting last night’s events to Walden – the part where Mal had kindly offered to dispose of the superfluous leg by devouring it.

“Wal?” She snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. “Earth to Walden? Hey, seriously, I’m fine. I am now officially a proper Wolfcient. I have passed the ultimate test.”

That pulled him out of his trance-like state. “What?”

“That’s what I am. A Wolfcient. A Wolf and an Ancient. Get it? It’s better than ‘hybrid’, don’t you think?”

“It’s…a word,” Walden said guardedly. “A made-up one.”

Okay, clearly he didn’t like it. Well, Evey was quite fond of it, so he would have to accept it. Her one-person species had a name now. “So we’re okay? I told you as soon as I could. I couldn’t possibly have done it any sooner.”

“Yeah, V, it’s fine. I’m not mad at you for…almost losing your leg.” Abruptly he stood and hugged her tightly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Evey smiled against his chest. “Well then. What about you? How did it go with Estelle last night?” _Did you score?_ she almost added jokingly. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate the humour, though, so she didn’t.

Walden released her. “The notes we went over were irrelevant, but there’s a lot more where that came from, Estelle said. The safe is like the Tardis: much bigger on the inside. There are thousands of sheets of parchment in there.”

Gods, they could be here for days. “They’re not filed at all? It’s all just one giant mess with no order?”

“None whatsoever,” Walden confirmed.

“Did you try to _Accio_ the notes we need?” He nodded. “Ugh. French people are the worst.”

“Yeah,” Walden agreed absently. “Um, V?”

“Mm?”

“What about the Death Eaters?”

Right. She’d been so worried about Walden’s reaction to what had happened to her that she’d almost forgotten about their attackers. How self-centred did a person have to be to entirely forget about their friend violently murdering a bunch of desperate losers? “Ah…they might be…slightly dead,” she admitted. “Travers cut off my leg and…I guess Mal saw red…turned into a werewolf…tore them all apart...”

Walden was apparently trying to process the news. “Alright, okay,” he said after a moment. “Malkoran did the killing so…it’s his problem.” He scoffed. “So much for being a Buddhist.”

Evey had remarked upon that last night, but Mal was not, in fact, a Buddhist. He’d lived in a Buddhist monastery and had observed the monks’ way of life while he was there, but that was not the same thing. He did believe that taking a life was a shameful waste, but he had made no vow of non-violence or anything of the sort. Also, he’d admitted to going berserk when he thought that Evey was going to die. She didn’t say that to Walden, though.

“I do wish that he hadn’t killed them,” she murmured. “I told him not to, but then Travers…”

Walden brushed her hair softly. “It’s not your fault, love. In fact, it’s not even Malkoran’s fault. Travers had it coming.”

Yeah, Greyback had had it coming, too, but he was haunting Evey’s nightmares regardless. Gods, she hoped Travers wasn’t going to join him, nor any of the other Death Eaters who’d perished with him. Evey had removed their masks but hadn’t recognised any of them; in her opinion, they looked too young to be first- or even second-generation Death Eaters. She suspected that Travers had recruited them after the Battle of Hogwarts while planning his vengeance. She had no clue how he’d tracked her to Paris, however. Maybe he just happened to be in the area; maybe he was looking for Flamel’s notes in the hope of resurrecting Voldemort (again), as Estelle had implied others had done before him.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Estelle said something in French. Walden translated. “She says that the food is rea-”

Evey was out of the bathroom before he could finish his sentence.


	10. I know I’m strange, but what are you?

“Is it me, or does this portal look nothing like the first one?” Ted asked.

Tony assumed that the question was rhetorical as the portal flashed again, white and blue and purple. It was square in shape, about the size of a garage door. The inside was a pulsing mass of pitch black, occasionally illuminated by lightning bolts. It rumbled like thunder. “I don’t like this,” he stated.

“Maybe Bob the Dim-Witted Janitor isn’t as inoffensive as we made him out to be,” the Ripper muttered. “He’s clearly trying to kill us.”

Well, if even _she_ found the portal daunting… “Maybe we should return to Death’s Chamber,” Tony said tentatively. “Pick another door.”

“Aw, come on,” Ted said. “It can’t be that bad. Anyway, we’re all immune to lightning and pretty much everything else.”

“It doesn’t mean that we look forward to being brutally electrocuted,” Tony noted.

The Wolf shrugged. “Fine, then. You stay here and I’ll go look for the greater demon.” Before Tony could hold him back, Ted ran toward the portal and went through. The portal shook, lightning striking wildly.

The Ripper scoffed loudly. “I’ll be damned if the Wolf dares to do something I would not do.” With that, she jumped inside the throbbing darkness.

Tony hesitated. Maybe he should just wait here. If something happened to them, he would be Sirius’s only chance at being rescued. Just as he thought that, wild howls sounded in the distance. They were like distorted wolf howls, almost painful to hear. Tony felt like his ears would start to bleed if it went on much longer.

Then he spotted the creatures that were responsible for the unnatural noise.

They were nothing like wolves. They looked like a crossbreed between an elephant, a lion and a crocodile. About four meters tall, scaly and slimy, with matted fur around their…faces, they ran on all fours, their serpent-like trunk ahead of them like prey detectors. Which they possibly were. There were tiny tentacles at their ends, and the mouth below was full of razor-edged fangs.

Tony stared at the hurtling horde of demons, paralysed for a moment, then tried to Disapparate. In a panic, he realised that he couldn’t. He glanced at the portal. It looked almost welcoming now. Closing his eyes, he jumped after his companions.

Then he remembered that the horde had been heading straight toward him, and he had no reason to believe that the portal would stop them.

By the time that thought struck, he found himself standing in the middle of a forest. He glanced back at the portal, but it wasn’t there. He hadn’t felt anything as he’d passed through it. Were all portals one-sided in this accursed place?

At least he hadn’t been followed. He spotted Ted a few corpses away from where he stood. The Wolf was looking up a tree.

“Did she climb it?” Tony asked as he approached. He squinted, but he couldn’t see anything beyond a luxuriant mass of leafy branches. The woods looked like any wooden area one might encounter in Scotland but, once again, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. There were no singing birds, no chirping insects.

“Nah, she’s up ahead,” Ted replied softly, pointing to his left. “But there’s someone up there.”

“Someone, or something?” Tony murmured.

Ted sniffed inelegantly. “Smells human. But weird.” His nose twitched. “Smells like magic, but it's different than yours.”

There was a moment of silence as Tony listened intently, trying to pick up a sign of whoever was up the tree. Then the unidentified creature began to descend. Branches cracked overhead and a moment later Tony was face to face with a young man who was about his size – both in height and width, though his skin was darker.

The lad huffed in annoyance. He had a mohawk haircut, which was so outlandish in this setting that Tony had to smile. Both of his ears were pierced in several places and he was dressed like a…punk going through a goth phase? Tony knew nothing of fashion but, even to his untrained eyes, the ensemble was painful to look at. It was mostly black leather, but with splashes of bright colours in unexpected places.

Most importantly, though: his eyes were like a cat’s, green with a vertical pupil.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the mysterious man hissed in a low voice. “Go away. Leave me alone, or he’ll find us.”

Tony’s curiosity took over the conversation. “What… I mean, who are you?” It seemed more polite, phrased like that.

“Why do you care? Look, you obviously took a wrong turn somewhere.” He pointed behind Tony. “You’ll find another portal over there, under the gigantic oak tree. It’ll get you to approximate safety.”

“What about you?”

“I can’t go through it. He’ll sense it. My f… The demon put a curse on me. I’m stuck here,” he explained grimly. “I need to find another way out.”

“Can we help?” Tony offered.

“We have better things to do, fledgling,” the Ripper said briskly. Tony started slightly; he hadn’t heard her approach.

The youth nodded. “Your friend’s right. Leave me alone. I can take care of myself. Besides, unless you know how to defeat a greater demon, you won’t be much help…”

“So there _is_ a greater demon around here!” Ted exclaimed, grinning. “Perfect. We were looking for one.”

The cat-eyed man looked at the Wolf as though he were insane. “What do you want with As…with him?”

“You were going to say his name!” Ted said enthusiastically. “What is it?”

The lad shook his head. “I almost made the dire mistake of saying it aloud, which would have resulted in your deaths.”

“And yours?”

“I wish,” he grumbled.

“Look, don’t worry about us. We’re immortal. That puny demon can’t hurt us. You call him, we’ll discuss what we have to discuss with him, and then maybe we can help you get out of here,” Ted suggested.

The man sniggered. “I’m immortal, too, you fools. You think that’ll stop him? He’s one of the Seven!”

“Seven what?” Tony wondered.

Mohawk rolled his eyes in exasperation. “My, but you are completely clueless, aren’t you? What are you even doing here? How did you get to Hell?”

They all stared at him. “This…this isn’t Hell, boy,” Ted said. “This is Pandemonium.”

“Nonsense,” the lad retorted. “Pandemonium is a nightclub. I should think I know better than you, in any case. You’re obviously not regular visitors.”

The Ripper snapped her fingers loudly to attract everyone’s attention. “If he’s hiding from the demon, it must be in the area. Enough with this pointless chattering. Let’s go look for it.”

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” Mohawk demanded. “Mundanes summoning demons into supposedly warded pentagrams are stupid enough, but this is an entirely new level of idiocy.”

“Can I just point out that you’re here, too?” Tony said, feeling offended for some reason. Had the stranger just called him a “mundane”? What did that even mean?

“Against my will! What, you think I’m on vacation or something? The banishing ritual went awry. Backfired completely. I got sucked in. That’ll teach me to involve myself in Shadowhunters business against my better judgement,” he muttered sourly. “I really have to learn to say ‘no’ to them, no matter how ridiculously charming they may be…”

“Shadowhunters?” Ted repeated.

“Nephilim? Children of the Angel? Usually impossibly good-looking, but also incredibly annoying?” He paused, puzzled by their blank expressions. “You said you were immortal. You must be Downworlders. How do you not know about Shadowhunters?”

“Never heard either word,” Tony confessed. “We’re…” He glanced at the Ripper, but she merely shrugged. “We’re Ancients. Immortal vampires.”

“All vampires are immortal,” the lad said slowly.

There was a moment of silence. “Not where we come from,” Ted said eventually. “How come you smell like magic?”

“Because I’m a warlock. Obviously.” He drew their attention to his eyes, as if that was supposed to mean anything to them.

“You mean a wizard,” Tony supplied.

“What, like Gandalf?” Mohawk said derisively. “What are you, some kind of nerd?”

“Kind of like Gandalf?” Tony said. “Though Middle-earth wizards are not exactly-”

“What are you talking about? Gandalf is a fictional character from a fictional mundane book.” He scoffed faintly, then scowled again at the look on their faces. “What?”

“Nothing,” Tony cut in. “But, um, I don’t think we hail from the same, ah…world?” It felt weird just to say it, but he couldn’t come up with a better explanation.

“That’s quite possible. I’ve heard rumours of alternate dimensions…” He narrowed his feline eyes. “Interesting. I wish we could discuss this further, but I have to go back to my tree. The woods seem to interfere with his tracking methods.”

“Ok, look, we have no intention of revealing your presence to the demon, but can you just tell us where to find him? We’ll be out of your impressive hair as soon as we get some directions,” Ted promised.

The warlock hesitated. “You really shouldn’t try to find him, you know. You don’t seem like clueless mundanes, but whatever it is you seek, he won’t help you. And immortal or not, he can and will destroy you. I can’t believe I need to spell it out for you, but since you come from a strange place… Demons are _evil_.”

Ted chuckled amiably, patting the man’s shoulder. “Thanks for the tip but, funny enough, the only demons we’ve met so far were actually more pleasant than our friend Jack here.” He pointed to the Ripper, who rolled her eyes for the hundredth time during this conversation.

Tony thought back on the horde of hybrid demons that had nearly attacked him. “Well, most of them, anyway,” he said. “Look, kid…”

“I’m over four hundred years old,” the warlock countered.

“Oh nice, we’re about the same age!” Ted exclaimed. “Was there a pirate called Blackbeard in your world?”

Mohawk looked taken aback by the odd question. “Um…yes. Why?”

Ted grinned happily. “Because-”

“Something’s coming,” the Ripper interrupted them.

The warlock sighed glumly. “Up the trees, everyone.” Nobody moved. “Up, _now_!” Without waiting to see if they complied, he chanted a few words and began to ascend. Blue sparks flew from his hands.

“Neat trick,” Ted commented. “What should we do?”

“You know what? I’m not really looking forward to meet the demon head-on. Let’s climb up the tree and reconsider the situation when we have eyes on him,” Tony suggested.

Amazingly, no one protested. The Wolf and the Ripper escalated the nearest tree while Tony whispered a levitating spell. No fancy blue sparks for him, but it did the job just the same.

As soon as he was settled on a branch, he cautiously peered through the leaves. He’d expected a huge, misshapen monster, but once again, his expectations were wrong. What entered the woods below them wore the appearance of a man – a tall, muscular, reasonably attractive man.

Despite his humanoid appearance, however, he was clearly the greater demon they’d been looking for. His eyes glowed red and he had a cruel smile. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called in a deep, sing-song voice. “I know you’re here, Magnus. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t say my name. You were thinking it so loudly that I heard it anyway.” His malicious grin widened. “Come to me, my boy, and I will consider sending you back to the place you call home. Though you belong here, of course. Imagine what your life could be: you are my heir, easily my favourite son. You could rule over…say, a fifth of my territory, until you can claim your own. I’m open to negotiations.”

The warlock was the demon’s _son_? Merlin. That was a disturbing thought. Tony was considering the best way to get rid of the demon, so that Mohawk – Magnus – could maybe make a run for it, when Ted let himself drop from his branch. He landed on his feet, heavily but somewhat gracefully, for a man his size. “Fool!” Magnus hissed in a low voice. “What does he think he’s doing?”

“Good day!” Ted said cheerfully.

The demon was staring at him with wide crimson eyes. “Who in the Master’s name are _you_?” He glanced up the tree Ted had fallen from, but apparently distinguished nothing. “What are you doing here? Where is my son? What have you done with him? I demand-”

Ted raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, easy there, fella. One question at a time. I’m Ted.”

“What sort of lowly demon are you?” The greater demon shook his head and he was suddenly horned, like a ram. “Do you have any idea who I am? You’re trespassing on my territory, _Ted_.”

“Why, you must be one of the Seven, right? You seem very…powerful and all.”

That appeased the demon somewhat. “Thank you for noticing. I am Asmodeus, mightiest of the Princes!” Wings sprouted from his back, dark, demonic-looking things. As one might expect from a demon.

Then it struck Tony. The Seven Princes of Hell. Right. But then… Did Hell exist, or not? Merlin, this place was so confusing. Maybe Hell was one of the…provinces of Pandemonium? Yeah, that would almost make sense.

“Impressive!” Ted commented. “Say, um, you wouldn’t happen to be in charge of the mortals who transit through Pandemonium, would you?”

The demon smirked. “You ask me, the glorious Asmodeus, if I’m in charge of _mortals_? Ha! That is beneath me. I manage the Department of Demonic Resources,” he went on in a business-like manner. “Mortals are not allowed on these premises.”

“Is that so?” Ted said, stroking his beard. “That’s odd. Mammon assured me that you’d be able to assist me. I guess Beelzebub was right – you’re not really in charge here. I should probably ask Lucifer-”

“Bee said _what_?” Asmodeus snarled. Claws sprouted from his fingers as he seized Ted by the collar. “Not in charge? This is _my_ territory!” He released the Wolf, huffing. “Unbelievable. Two thousand years, and the fool still thinks he can dethrone me. Oh, Lucy will hear about this, alright. I might even take this up to the Master. I’m tired of this gossipy, whiny little-”

Ted cleared his throat loudly. “About that mortal… Where can I enquire about his whereabouts? Which...Department deals with mortals?”

“Your best shot is to take that portal there, which will lead you to the Department of Fear and Terror.” He pointed the same way Magnus had indicated earlier. “Then you’ll have to look for the next portal yourselves or ask around, because I’m not familiar with Abe’s turf. Oh, but do avoid the oval portals. They’ve been malfunctioning lately.”

Tony couldn’t believe they were getting directions from a greater demon and how cooperative Asmodeus was being.

“Alright, that’s really nice of you. I’ll be on my way, then,” Ted said. He turned around and took a few casual steps toward the portal, hands in his pockets.

“Wait,” the demon called. Tony tensed. “You haven’t seen my son, have you? About yay high, skinny, is going through an odd fashion phase?”

Ted pretended to think it over. “Haven’t seen anything like that around here, but now that I think about it…” He paused for effect. “While I was discussing with Mammon, earlier, I did see someone who matches that description. Fella seemed to be sneaking about.” He gestured above his head. “Had really high hair like that?”

Asmodeus nodded, but he was scowling. “It’s impossible that you saw him there. The boy cannot use the portal without my knowing.”

“You asked, and I told you what I know. Just a fair exchange of information,” Ted said with a shrug. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must find that dumb mortal before he wreaks havoc out there.”

Asmodeus chuckled. “I hear you. Mortals are the worst. I’m glad they’re not allowed in here.” He began to move, his shape shifting with every step. He fell on all four as his limbs elongated. His wings retracted inside his back. He looked a bit like a chupacabra. “I’m going to go tear Bee a new one and torture my son’s location out of Mammon,” he rasped. “Say hi to Abe for me.”

“I will!” Ted called as Asmodeus began to run.

Tony waited a moment before levitating downward. Magnus followed and the Ripper let herself fall, landing with the grace of a cat. Tony wondered if he could do that without shattering his kneecaps, but at the same time was aware that he would never dare try. Immortal or not, he wasn’t very comfortable with heights.

Magnus bowed to Ted. “Thank you for the distraction,” he said wearily, “though you’ve only delayed the issue. He will follow the trail and soon realise that you lied.” He looked up, his green eyes gleaming. “I hope he doesn’t hunt _you_ down when he’s done with me.”

“It doesn’t sound like he wants to kill you,” the Ripper pointed out. “Why are you hiding from him?”

“Of course he won’t kill me. I’m his favourite, aren’t I?” Magnus said bitterly. “I’ve turned him down time and again, but he is persistent. I just want to live my life as I want, with my…where I belong. I may be half-demon, but I do not belong in this place, believe me.”

“We can relate to that,” Tony muttered. He was already tired of being called a demon. “Is there anything else we can do to help?”

“You cannot, but it’s okay. I have warlock friends on the other side. They will find a way to bring me home when they realise I’m stuck here.” He smirked. “Or they won’t, and I’ll have to build myself a little treehouse and start a new life here. Either way, I’m done with the Nephilim. For good, this time.”

“I hope you can make it back safely,” Tony said. “To where you belong.”

Magnus eyed him with his distinctive eyes, then he smiled gratefully, all trace of cynicism and sarcasm leaving his tense features. “You, too. Thank you again. _Terima kasih_ _banyak._ ”

The Ripper was already heading toward the portal. “Come on, nitwits. We’ve lost enough time. I hope you don’t intend to stop for every damsel in distress we encounter.” Ted and Tony followed, as usual.

“Oh,” Magnus called after them, “just a heads-up: do not linger on the other side of the oak-tree portal. Find another one quickly. The Department of Fear and Terror is aptly named.”


	11. Oh ye of little faith

After that first, eventful night in Paris, they’d decided that it was safer to remain inside the bookstore. Other Death Eaters might be lurking. It wasn’t that they couldn’t take care of them; it was just that Walden was reluctant to kill more people if it could be avoided. They didn’t want to get in trouble with the French wizarding authorities, or the Muggle ones, for that matter.

Besides, Walden was afraid that Evey, confident in her…Wolfcient’s regenerative powers, was being too reckless. She always was, but he didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.

Evey had asked Malkoran to help Walden and Estelle in their search, since he could read French and Latin as well as the other two, and she’d settled on the couch with a pile of English books she’d borrowed from upstairs. There was nothing else for her to do, except eat croissants all day long and sing along to France’s number one music hit that summer: _La Tribu de Dana_ , by the Breton band Manau. She clearly had no idea what the rapper was saying but, after hearing the song a thousand times a day on the radio, or so it felt like, she had become good at mimicking the lyrics.

At least she thought so, and Walden hadn’t contradicted her, of course.

They’d been here for nearly a week. Estelle never stayed in the basement during the day – she claimed that she wanted to give them some privacy while they rested. What privacy could they possibly have when Malkoran was there with them anyway? What sort of relationship did Estelle believe the three of them had?

At least Estelle had toned down the flirting with Walden, now that Malkoran was helping them. Walden had wondered more than once why she’d bothered at all, since Evey and he were clearly married – Evey brought it up any chance she got, not necessarily in a subtle manner. Why not flirt with Malkoran instead? He wasn’t any more available, but at least he didn’t have a ring and his love interest wasn’t around. Yet Estelle had shown zero interest in the Wolf. It was…flattering, admittedly. So was Evey’s jealousy. If she ever scolded him for being jealous again, he was definitely going to throw this in her face.

Of course, she had every reason to be jealous, in this particular instance. Estelle was gorgeous and she’d been flirting with him from day one. So maybe he _shouldn’t_ throw it in Evey’s face? Ugh, he wished Tony were here. His brother knew how to deal with this stuff. Also, he would likely have seduced Estelle by now, so she wouldn’t be a problem.

Walden and Evey had had a serious conversation the previous night; not regarding the scandalous flirting (Walden avoided that topic at all costs), but rather Estelle’s interest in helping them. What did she gain from this? She hadn’t asked whom they were trying to save. She didn’t know them. Evey had been relieved to hear that Walden didn’t trust Estelle, either. Well, why would he? She was a stranger. Her backstory was flimsy. She was helping a bunch of foreigners for no apparent reason and she had a house full of rotting cadavers. These facts did not exactly inspire trust.

But she was their best – and only – lead. They would have to cautiously trust her until she stabbed them in the back. They had no other choice.

“ _J’ai trouvé les notes de Nico_!” Estelle exclaimed suddenly. She brandished a crumbly sheet of parchment in triumph.

Malkoran translated for Evey, who’d looked up from her book. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch. “She found Flamel’s notes.”

“Thank fuck,” Evey muttered as she closed her novel, a battered copy of _Cugel’s Saga_. “Okay, let’s see it, then.” She stood and stretched then joined them at the desk.

Estelle’s expression turned sombre as she scanned Flamel’s neat writing. “ _Putain, ça va pas être de la tarte, les gars._ ” She kept reading as Evey glared at her impatiently. “ _En fait, ça ne va pas être possible du tout, je pense._ ”

Walden translated for Evey. “She says it won’t be easy. Maybe it won’t be feasible at all.”

“Why the hell not?” Evey complained. She almost reached for the paper but then remembered that she couldn’t understand it anyway. She shot Walden a meaningful look.

Walden put his flesh hand forward and waited. Estelle glanced at him and shrugged. “See for yourself,” she said in English as she handed him the parchment.

He scowled at the long list of ingredients and quickly understood Estelle’s disenchantment. _Cerebrospinal fluid from an obscurial._ Well, that couldn’t be legal. But it got much worse: _a pint of_ _mead from Valhalla_. _Sap from Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life. Styx water. A hair from the tail of a live thylacine. The heart of an-_

Walden’s eyes widened. He looked up at Estelle. He was so shocked that he forgot to speak French. “This is a joke, right?”

“Can someone _please_ tell me what’s going on?” Evey demanded.

Estelle ignored her as if she were background noise, as she usually did. “ _Désolé, mon chat, mais c’est bien ça._ _Je comprends ton désarroi, crois-moi bien._ ” She’d begun using this much more familiar form of address that first night, without bothering to ask if that was okay with Walden.

“Estelle, there’s no way that this is the right formula, the right ingredient list,” Walden said, still in English, mostly for Evey’s sake. “Come on, think about it. How could Flamel have gathered all of this? You said he’d done it, that he’d succeeded in healing one of the people who went through the archway when it was first discovered. But he couldn’t possibly have, not if these are the required ingredients.” Malkoran stealthily took the paper from him so that he could read it to Evey before she erupted.

“ _Les loups de Tasmanie existaient encore, à l’époque_ ,” Estelle said defensively. “ _Et Nico était hyper débrouillard. Et sans scrupules, ou si peu.”_

“I don’t have a problem with the bloody Tasmanian wolf,” Walden said, his jaw clenched. Although it was one, admittedly. The marsupial had been extinct for several decades. “I have a problem with…” Nearly everything on that damned list! “’ _Le cœur d’un humain indigne, qui a été léché par Âmmout la Dévoreuse mais pas ingéré’?_ _C’est n’importe quoi!_ ”

Just as he was saying the words, Malkoran had reached that part of the list, which he translated for Evey. “’The heart of an unworthy human, licked but not consumed by Ammit the Devourer.’”

Evey scoffed. “Yeah, she’s definitely screwing with us.” She turned to Estelle and crossed her arms. “You think this is funny? There is a life at stake! We don’t have time for your messed-up games.”

“I’m not playing with you, you idiots!” Estelle shouted. “Why would I?”

“Well, why did you decide to help us in the first place?” Evey countered.

Estelle rolled her eyes. “Because I need money, alright? You do have money, don’t you? Lots of it? Because believe me, you’re going to need it. And I intend to get paid for doing my part.”

Now _that_ was a plausible reason for doing just about anything. “Money is not an issue at all,” Walden said. “But please, if this is some sort of sick joke…”

“It’s not!” Estelle insisted. “I know it sounds crazy, yes? But I swear, on my mother’s grave, this is the cure you’ve been looking for. If we do somehow manage to gather all of these improbable things, we can save your friend.”

Walden glanced at Evey, who didn’t seem in any way appeased. “We need a moment to discuss it amongst ourselves,” she said curtly. “Alone.”

“ _Elle est gonflée, celle-là_ ,” Estelle grumbled. “ _On est chez moi, ici_.”

Estelle had a point: this was her place. “Why don’t we go out for a drink?” Walden suggested. “Just the three of us. I’m sure we’ll find a pub that’s still open.” It was nearly midnight, but it was a Saturday in the middle of summer and this was Paris.

“ _Il y a un club de jazz dans la rue d’à côté_ ,” Estelle said. “ _Le Caveau de la Huchette._ _C’est ouvert jusque deux heures trente du matin._ ”

“There’s a jazz club nearby,” Walden translated for Evey. “It’s open until two thirty.”

She shrugged. “Fine with me. Mal?”

“I do like jazz,” the Wolf said.

He did? Well, that was surprising, but hardly relevant. Walden took the notes and pocketed them. “Let’s go, then.” A bit of fresh air and a break would do everyone good.

* * *

“This place is so fancy,” Evangeline murmured when they were ushered inside the _Caveau de la Huchette_. She touched her too-large t-shirt self-consciously. “I am _not_ dressed for this.”

Malkoran gave her a cursory glance. The black t-shirt had a faded inscription on it – _Led Zeppelin_ , whatever that meant – as well as a drawing of a man with wings. She was wearing khaki cargo pants and flat sandals. She did like to be comfortable.

“Well, the bloke at the door let us in, so I guess they don’t mind,” Walden said. He was wearing a shirt, but not the professional sort. He also had cargo pants, beige ones. They looked like a couple of tourists. Mal himself had on a plain grey t-shirt and formal black trousers.

They took a seat in an alcove. The place may be fancy, but the atmosphere was quite cosy. There was a jazz band on the scene and several people were dancing. They wouldn’t be overheard, that was certain. A waitress came by to get their order as soon as they were seated. Evangeline asked Walden to order a pint for her, a choice that visibly surprised the waitress, though she made no comment. They all ended up ordering a beer. The prices were staggering. But this was Paris, Walden reminded them. Malkoran didn’t remember drinks being this expensive but, to be fair, he had not set foot in the French capital in several centuries. The last time he was here, people had been more preoccupied about keeping their heads on their shoulders than about affording alcohol.

“Well, let’s not beat about the bush, shall we?” Evangeline said after their drinks were brought to them. She took a long gulp of hers then wiped her mouth with her hand, smacking her lips. Mal smiled; sometimes, she reminded him of Edward. “Is Estelle full of shit, or what?”

“Did Mal translate the whole list for you?” Walden asked.

She snorted. “No, but the heart thing was barmy enough, wasn’t it?”

“Actually,” Mal broke in quietly, “it’s not quite as daunting as you seem to think.”

“Oh?” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Do you happen to have the heart of an unworthy human on your person, then?”

“Certainly,” he replied. “Inside my chest cavity. But I’m afraid it has not been licked by Ammit the Devourer.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Evangeline muttered. “You’re not unworthy.”

Walden cleared his throat. “Obtaining a heart won’t be the difficult part, I should think. At worst we’ll…borrow Travers’s. He doesn’t need it anymore.”

“I’m not entirely certain that he had one,” Evangeline pointed out. “In any case, I doubt it’s still whole.” She glanced at Mal as she said that but there was no judgement in her eyes.

Mal had literally torn the Death Eaters to pieces, it was true, though it shamed him to admit it. He had lost control. The fact that the moon was full ought to be factored in, but it was a measly excuse for such wanton carnage.

“We know a wide array of people from various origins,” Mal said. He took the list of ingredients. “Ramesses can help us with the heart. Erik with the mead. As for the Tasmanian wolf, think about it: do we not know several shape-shifters?”

“The Bloodmother,” Evangeline said. She seemed to have regained some of her good humour. Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Well, I’d rather not have to trouble Elle with this,” Mal said quickly. “One of her progeny with the same skill will suffice. This animal was not magical in nature, was it?”

Walden shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Gorgo, then,” Evangeline suggested. She took another gulp of her beer. She would likely be done with it by the time Mal took a sip of his. “If we can reach her. Who are the other shifters again?” she asked Walden.

“Dracula.” He hesitated, frowning at his drink, which he hadn’t touched yet. “But we have no way of contacting him. Then there’s his progeny, of course...”

Evangeline groaned. “Ugh. The Salty Chick.”

“Saltychikha,” Walden corrected her automatically, though he grinned. “Darya, yes. She’s probably our best shot. In Gorgo’s last letter from Sudan, she said that they had no mobile phone reception, and we have no address for them.”

“Darya will never agree to help us. She did try to kill me,” Evangeline reminded him. Her eyes widened suddenly and she pointed at Mal. “You! You’re a shape-shifter!”

“He is?” Walden said dubiously.

“Indeed,” Mal confirmed. “But if you take a closer look at the list, you’ll notice that we need, and I quote, ‘a hair from the tail of a live thylacine plucked with jade tweezers by an ambidextrous man’.”

“Yeah, that will be a big problem. Where the hell are we supposed to find jade tweezers?” Evangeline said wryly.

“Are either of you ambidextrous?” Malkoran asked, though he knew the answer. Walden could use his left arm, which was made of wand wood, to cast magic (with poor aim) but he strongly favoured his right arm, just like Evangeline.

“No,” she admitted. “And I suppose you’ll have a hard time turning into a…thylacine and plucking your own tail at the same time.”

“Yes. You see the problem.” Just as Evangeline finished her beer, Malkoran sniffed his own glass tentatively. He hadn’t had alcohol in a long time. Not that it was likely to provoke any reaction in him; Wolves were insensitive to any substance that could intoxicate mortals. The smell wasn’t very pleasant, though, so he set the glass back on the table.

“We should try to contact Gorgo first,” Evangeline said. “Send an owl or something. Then, if we really have to…” She trailed off with a shrug.

“Okay, well, that’s only one ingredient,” Walden said. He grabbed the list and studied it for a moment. “Do you really believe that Ramesses can help us with the heart? He was a major pharaoh back in the day, but that doesn’t mean he can enter the Duat as if he owned the place. Or does it? Has he been there before?”

“What’s the Duat?” Evangeline asked before Mal could answer.

“The Realm of the Dead, according to ancient Egyptian mythology. The equivalent of the Underworld, more or less,” Walden explained. “That’s where we’ll find Ammit the Devourer, near the scales of justice, where they weigh the hearts of the deceased.”

“As for Ramesses,” Malkoran broke in, “I do not think that he has ever visited the Duat, but perhaps he can help us figure out a way to get there and obtain what we need.”

“Or,” Walden said, “we find Gorgo _and_ Imhotep and then we don’t need to get any of your Wolves involved at all. Imhotep can help us with the Duat.”

“What’s wrong with involving my Wolves?” Mal demanded. “Ramesses will be more than happy to assist us, I can assure you.”

Evey smiled and patted Walden’s flesh arm. “They’re not all like him, you know.”

Him? Oh. She meant Greyback. The cub had truly harmed their reputation. “Most of my Wolves are perfectly reliable,” Malkoran said, feeling a bit offended. If Walden should be wary of anyone, it ought to be the Ancients who’d schemed to have his wife murdered.

Walden drank half of his beer and held back a belch. They were quite a pair, these two. “Fine,” he muttered darkly. “Whatever needs to be done to save Sirius, I guess.” He drained the second half. “Estelle’s right, though. There are plenty of ingredients that can be purchased, most of them legally, but it will be costly.”

“It’s just money,” Evangeline said dismissively. “We should focus on the ingredients that we can’t buy. Like…did you say Styx water, earlier?” she asked Mal.

He sighed heavily. He was afraid of what she would suggest. “I know what you’re thinking, but-”

“I mean, that’s the easiest one, isn’t it?” she went on, ignoring him entirely. “We need only ask Hades.”

“Of course,” a deep voice sneered. “Let’s just give our shopping list to Hades. Would you like a bag with this, _mademoiselle_?”

Several lifetimes of existence had rendered Malkoran immune to jump scares. Or so he thought. He couldn’t help but start when he realised that a man had materialised at his side.

No, not a man. A _god_.

“Yes, yes, it is I, Hades, Lord of the Underworld, God Emeritus, and so on. It is a pleasure to meet you at long last, Cursed One,” the newcomer said offhandedly.

“He can read minds,” Evangeline whispered to Mal. Well, if Hades could read minds, he could probably hear her no matter the volume of her voice.

“I apologise for that tiny incident, by the way,” Hades went on, addressing Mal. “My envoys were supposed to savagely murder you, not grant you immense powers and immortality. Greater demons have a mind of their own and these two were led on besides. But they have been adequately punished, I’m told,” he added with a twisted smile, “as were the instigators of this ridiculous scheme.”

Malkoran stared at him. “So you…heard us? When we… When Elle and I…”

“Of course I did. I’m not deaf. Though sometimes I wish I were,” he grumbled.

“And you…sent demons to kill us.” Mal shook out of his trance, his anger finally taking over his stupor. “Instead of merely showing up as you are doing _right now_. I can’t believe it! The unfairness-”

Hades arched an eyebrow and regarded him flatly, with eyes bluer than forget-me-not. “You tried to _summon_ me, boy. What did you expect? That we’d all have a nice picnic in the middle of the desert, amidst the gory remains of the ‘friends’ you betrayed?” He chuckled dryly. “No. If I’d come in person, well, first of all, you would have died. I would have donned my true form and it would have seared the sight from your eyes and the flesh off your bones. It would have driven you insane. You would have screamed for mercy, thinking that your predicament was lasting hours or days when in reality you would have turned to ashes in seconds. And then I would have tracked down your unworthy souls and played with them for a while, until I got bored and threw them to my dog. Spot loves chew toys made out of the souls of the dishonourable dead.”

Malkoran gulped reflexively.

“The infamous three-headed dog that guards the Underworld is named _Spot_?” Walden murmured, looking at Evangeline in astonishment.

“Yes, my darling wife picked the name. She thought _Cerberus_ was a mouthful. Anyhow, what’s done is done, eh?” Hades told Mal. “’tis water under the bridge, as they say. Now, let’s discuss that miraculous elixir of yours.”

“Yeah,” Evangeline said slowly. She was looking at Mal with a concerned expression. “Um…”

Walden decided to take over from her. “We need Styx water,” he said bluntly. “We don’t mind getting it ourselves, but can you at least tell us…how?”

“With a ladle?” Hades supplied.

Walden exhaled loudly in annoyance. He seemed as immune to Hades’s godliness as his wife. “How do we get there? To your…realm? Without dying, preferably. You said that we couldn’t just portal to the Underworld.”

“I said it because it is the truth,” Hades said. "There is no Underworld portal such as the archway that leads to Pandemonium."

Walden leaned forward. “Okay but, see, there’s this bloke, Nicolas Flamel, who invented the elixir we need-”

“You’re wondering how he managed to gather these bizarre ingredients without my help.”

“Um, yes,” Walden admitted. “Yours or…some other god’s, I suppose."

Hades spread his hands. “He had greater demons do it for him. In fact, that was his wife’s doing. Nicolas was a brilliant potioneer and alchemist, but Pernelle Flamel was a Master Summoner. She was a pioneer in this field and made some incredible breakthroughs.”

“Really?” Walden said with a sceptical scowl. “Because as far as I know, she’s only known to be…well, Nicolas Flamel’s wife.”

Hades scoffed. “That’s like saying Marie Curie was just Pierre Curie’s wife. Women were simply not supposed to achieve great things, back in the day. Pernelle Flamel’s research wasn’t discarded, far from it, but all the credit and accolades went to her male counterparts.”

“That’s outrageous!” Evangeline exclaimed.

“That’s how it was,” Hades said with a shrug. “And still is, in some parts of the Overworld.”

Malkoran took a deep breath. Time to get the conversation back on track. He had to know what to expect for the next phase of their endeavour, mainly so he could decide whether he wanted to remain involved. “So greater demons such as…the Wolf have access to your realm. Does that mean that we have to-”

“No!” Hades interrupted him. “Absolutely not. Under no circumstances should you do that. They do have ‘access’ to my realm, and others, but they are not at all welcome there. On the contrary.” He looked quite glum. “It’s more of a ‘trespassers will be killed’ situation. Except that they can’t be killed, of course, not permanently.”

“But then how are we supposed to-” Evangeline began to say.

“ _I_ will help you,” Hades cut in. This mind reading thing was quite annoying. “Oh, I’m sorry to annoy you, Cursed One,” he said with a smirk. “I can leave, if you wish. I’ll let you figure this out on your own.”

“No, no,” Evangeline said quickly. She shot Mal a warning look. “Please, we do need your help and it’s very nice of you to offer it.”

Malkoran shook his head in bewilderment. “’Offer it’? Don’t be so naïve! Do you really believe that he’s helping out of the goodness of his heart? Gods are selfish beings. He’ll want something in return for this favour. And let me tell you, there will be hell to pay.”

Evangeline seemed to be considering throwing her empty glass in his face, but Walden put his hand on her arm.

“Are you quite done?” Hades asked in a bored voice.

“No, actually, I am not. I don’t understand why you are here. I don’t understand what you want from her,” Mal said, gesturing toward Evangeline. “But whatever the reason, I do not like it, and I _know_ that nothing good will come out of this.” He turned to Evangeline. “We cannot accept his help.”

“You prefer the demon option, then?” she said angrily. “Because that’s the alternative, Mal. You’d rather beg Fenrir for assistance instead of accepting Hades’s, which is freely given?”

All the lights in the club flickered as she uttered the name aloud, causing a lull in conversation amongst the other patrons, though the musicians didn’t pause.

“It is not freely given. Nothing ever is. And there is another option, in truth.” Evangeline raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Is this really worth it?”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Are you kidding me?! Mal, we sent three of our friends to the Demon Realm with virtually no clue what to expect so they could retrieve Sirius. They’re counting on us to find a cure to Sirius’s soul problem. We can't give up now. We have to see this through.”

“The Ripper was right. You should have sought out a cure prior to sending them in. If we’d known what we now know…”

“What we know is that there _is_ a bloody cure,” she said through gritted teeth. “And I am going to make it, with or without your help,” she added sharply. She nudged Walden. “Let’s get out of here. Hades, we’ll continue this conversation later, if that is acceptable? In a room full of people who actually intend to make this work, preferably.” She threw Mal one last baleful glare and marched out of the club before the god even had a chance to reply. Walden shrugged helplessly and followed her.

“Well,” Hades said after a moment. “That was brutal.”

“Why are you still here?” Malkoran demanded. “Why don’t you go after your little protégée and leave me alone?”

“Are you going to drink that?” Hades pointed at Mal’s untouched beer. He didn’t answer. “I thought not. It’s quite bad. Here,” he went on, placing another drink in front of Mal. “Taste this instead.”

It smelled like anise. Pastis, perhaps, or ouzo. “I’m not thirsty,” Malkoran said. “What do you want from me?”

“I have no ulterior motive,” the god said softly. “I _have_ to do this. I’m not doing it out of kindness, nor out of boredom. It simply must be done.” He paused. “I think.”

“What are you rambling on about? You are a god. No one can make you do anything if you do not want to do it.”

“Something is going to happen,” Hades went on. “Something of critical importance that will define mankind’s future. And it will happen sooner rather than later.” He gestured at Evangeline and Walden’s empty glasses. “This – all of this – is meant to happen. The Pandemonium expedition. Looking for these uncommon ingredients in places no live humans are supposed to access. It’s all part of the bigger picture. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve meddled in Overworld affairs?”

That seemed to be a rhetorical question. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Mal said truthfully.

“Do you remember…well, surely you must,” Hades said with a faint chuckle. “The creature that was once known as the Seer?”

How could he forget? Besides, she – it? – had paid him a visit just a week past.

“Did it now?” Hades mused. “It isn’t supposed to do that. Oh, well. It’s not my responsibility. If he’s losing power, though, if he can’t control the denizens under his authority…that could have dire consequences. Perhaps that’s what the Oracle meant… Perhaps this is what will cause…”

Was he talking to himself? He was obviously lost in thought. “I’m not lost,” Hades replied to Mal’s inner wonderings. “I am, however, at a loss. I could not decipher the Oracle’s nebulous predictions. A Turning Point, it said. A visit to the Forbidden Realm, followed by a visit _from_ the Forbidden Realm. Yes, perhaps the demons are going to be unleashed… But how? And why here? Seems a bit early for an apocalypse of any sort. Besides, we’re all supposed to take part and I’ve received no formal invitation… Unless it got lost in the mail. Again,” he added with a sour twist of his mouth. He downed his anise-flavoured drink and the glass refilled itself.

“Hades,” Mal said slowly. “What are you saying? Is humankind in danger? If so, what can I do to-”

“Let me help you,” came the unsatisfying answer. “Whatever you do, Wolf, what is meant to happen, will happen. Sooner or later, prophecies come true, no matter what anyone does, including myself. But we can be prepared for them. We can plan ahead with what little information we have at our disposal. You must follow the path that has been laid out for you, Cursed One. Do not part from her.”

“From Evangeline?” Hades nodded. “Why is she so important to you? Why do you really follow her around? What’s so special about her? Well, I know that she’s special in many ways, but-”

“She has a role to play in the…disturbance to come. All of you do. I could feel it, when she first called out to me. I knew she was worthy of my attention. And now, so are you. Better late than never, eh?” he added tauntingly.

Malkoran took a sip of his drink and grimaced as the alcohol burned its way down his throat. Did people truly drink this for fun? It was revolting.

“Not for fun,” Hades said. “They’re merely trying to momentarily forget how meaningless their ephemeral lives are.”

“Is there no one else who can help us?” Mal asked without much hope. “Another god, perhaps?”

Hades smirked. “You don’t get to choose your godly sponsor, Cursed One.”


	12. All the fear that could exist

They were making their way toward the next portal, having left Magnus the Warlock to his fate. Tony briefly wondered if they should have asked the cat-eyed man to tag along, but he had a feeling that the Ripper would have…well, ripped him if he’d suggested it.

They usually walked in silence, or at least the Ripper did, but not this time. “That was impressive, what you did back there,” she told Ted, almost grudgingly, as if the Wolf couldn’t possibly do something that may earn him a modicum of respect. “How did you know what to say to make the demon go away?”

Ted glanced at her, as if he was unsure that he’d heard correctly. It wasn’t like her to praise him, or anyone else, for that matter. “I improvised,” he replied with a shrug. “I always do.”

“But those demons you mentioned… How did you know to name those particular ones? We’ve been here for mere hours and we’ve only met two useless, lowly demons.”

Whatever the reason, Tony thought it pretty reckless to name _any_ demon while in Pandemonium. With their luck, Beelzebub and Mammon were waiting for them on the other side of the next portal.

“Has it only been hours?” Ted said. “It feels like weeks, days at least.” That was also Tony’s impression. Time, or whatever passed for it in this infernal place, was seriously fucking up with his brains. “Anyway. That Magnus fella mentioned the Seven, which clued me in. I figured that the other six must also exist. Picked two of them at random, but not the most obvious ones, since we don’t know who that ‘Master’ is.” The Ripper regarded him blankly. “The Seven Princes of Hell. Surely you’ve heard of them. I mean, at least two of them are as famous as we are…”

“Never,” she replied mutinously, just as Tony said, “Vaguely.” She glared at him, though he wasn’t certain what he’d done wrong this time. But surely, she must have heard about Satan and Lucifer. Everyone knew their names. Most likely, she simply didn’t know that they were Princes of Hell.

“Ah, never mind,” Ted said amiably. “I won’t risk naming them now that we’re alone, but I studied demonology with Hernán for a couple of years, back in the…” He trailed off, his face scrunched up in concentration. “Well, sometimes before you were born, Miss Ripper.” He grinned. “You know, it would be a lot easier if you’d just tell us your name. It doesn't feel right, calling you Jack.”

“Not even the Mother knows my true name,” she retorted. “And I intend to keep it that way.” With that, she stomped ahead of them. Ted and Tony exchanged a fatalistic look and followed her at a safe distance.

Tony was glad for the revelation – that Ted had studied demonology, that was. The Wolf really did have hidden depths, didn’t he? It was odd that he hadn’t mentioned it before, but perhaps Evey knew about it. Either way, Ted’s knowledge would certainly come in handy in the future.

The oak-tree portal proved to be a rectangle of spiralling purple light. It made a sound like static on the telly. Since nothing dire had happened when he’d crossed the portal with the lightning bolts, Tony assumed that this one would be safe as well. He felt a vague tingling sensation, and there was a flash of blinding white light, but he recovered his sight after a few moments. Ted and the Ripper had gone ahead of him, as usual. They were studying their surroundings, which were like nothing they’d seen before in Pandemonium.

The place looked like a suburban area in any English city. Rows of small, near-identical houses; flawless lawns; concrete roads. It was all there, except, once again, for the absence of any sort of animal life – humans included. The houses did look lived-in, though: there were garden gnomes in the yards, parked cars of various brands and models, plants on the window sills, empty dog houses, curtains, decorative flamingos. The usual.

It was really creepy. Even the Ripper was moving uneasily, trying to look everywhere at once, as though she expected an ambush at any moment. They’d been walking for quite some time already, and the scenery hadn’t changed. It was just one long, never-ending suburban street.

Despite it being on the creepy side, Tony didn’t feel that the “Department of Fear and Terror” deserved its name. It was eerily silent, true, but that was actually a good thing; if anyone or anything tried to sneak up on them, they would certainly hear it.

The Ripper had attempted to enter one of the houses, but the doors were locked. Tony had cast an Alohomora spell, to no avail. Ted had smashed a window, but it had reformed before any of them could get inside. When going around to the backyards, they simply found themselves on another, identical street. Tony thought that they should rename the place “Extremely Frustrating Department That Has No Purpose”. Where were they supposed to find a portal in this endless, lifeless place?

Then, after another hour (day? week?) of aimless wandering, things started to happen. Random sounds could now be heard: crows cawing, unseen children laughing, an out-of-tune ice cream truck tune. Again, not particularly terrifying, but still creepy.

Doors were banging shut at irregular intervals. Car alarms went off. Unmanned tricycles passed them by. Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning flashed in the cloudless blue sky.

It felt like the place was slowly upgrading its fear-inspiring effects, like they were in a sort of giant haunted house. Now there were ghostly shapes moving in and out of sight in the blink of an eye, invisible dogs were growling and baying and the décor progressively changed. The houses appeared in various states of disrepair and abandon. Cracked windows, messy lawns, broken toys, even fires in some places. A guillotine with fresh blood on the blade; trees with several slipknots; coffins lying about; tombs and vaults with gothic ornaments. Skeletons the size of small children were playing hopscotch, singing what sounded at first like _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_ , but had in fact very different lyrics.

_Suffer, suffer, scream in pain_

_Blood is spilling from your brain._

_Zombies gnaw you like a plum_

_Piercing cries and you succumb._

_Suffer, suffer scream in pain_

_You will never breathe again.*_

Ted was chuckling at everything and occasionally humming along to the macabre lullaby, but the Ripper looked incredulous. “Is this supposed to scare anyone above the age of five?” she wondered. “It’s ludicrous.”

Tony was of a mind to agree. There wasn’t even a demon in sight.

They finally made it to a quaint little square. There was a large fountain in the middle. Carved pumpkins hung from the dead trees like lanterns and the liquid in the fountain ran thick and red like fresh blood. A crowd of shades was milling about – undistinguishable silhouettes who moved and moaned like zombies, but never came close to the trio.

“’Department of Trashy Horror Movie Props’ is more like it,” the Ripper muttered. “I hate Pandemonium. This place just keeps getting worse and worse. Where are all the _real_ demons, for fuck’s sake?”

She was clearly itching for a good fight, which was something Tony couldn’t understand at all, but to each their own, he supposed. Ted looked highly entertained, though. He was seated on the rim of the fountain. “If you’re thirsty, I think this is the real thing,” he called loudly. “Probably fresher than what we packed, too.” He plunged a finger in the basin and tasted the liquid. “Yup, it’s blood alright.”

The Ripper grumbled a few more choice curses under her breath before making her way to the fountain. She cupped her hands and took several sips. Tony’s stomach roiled at the disgusting sight, but it also gurgled, reminding him that he hadn’t fed in a while. After another moment of hesitation, he decided that he might as well have a drink. Who knew how long they were going to be stuck in here?

Just as he reached the fountain, however, everything changed.

The shades vanished in a puff of mist. The rotted trees folded over themselves and disappeared. The blood evaporated and the fountain itself crumbled to dust. In seconds, everything was gone, leaving the three of them standing in the middle of, literally, nowhere. There was nothing around them. The world was colourless, formless. The ground seemed to be made of grey nothingness, though it felt solid under Tony’s feet. The silent was so dense that it was almost suffocating – which was, of course, ridiculous. The absence of surroundings was simply oppressive.

“What the fuck?” the Ripper eventually broke the silence. Her voice echoed ominously in the enclosing void.

Then the world slowly returned. The sky turned midnight blue and filled with otherworldly constellations. Trees sprouted around them and the ground became soft grass and mud. Owls were hooting, fireflies drifted idly by. Tony frowned, his brain tingling as though it recognised the place. It looked like…

Like Walden’s backyard. Well, like the vast expanse of wooden area behind Macnair manor, to be more accurate. Tony turned to his left, trying to find his bearings. Yes: under that hill was the dragon’s cave, and there was the sound of running water nearby, the river where the kelpie dwelled.

Tony felt more scared now than ever since they’d taken the last portal. As he glanced around to ask the others what they made of this new development, he realised that he was alone in the woods. Ted and the Ripper were gone. Tony turned around to look for them, feeling that something was very wrong, and that’s when he saw it.

A body. He recognised her even from a distance.

_Evey._

His brain must have known that he was hallucinating, because it tried to tell him to ignore what he was seeing, but Tony didn’t pay it any attention. He ran toward Evey and knelt at her side.

She was lying perfectly still, arms crossed over her chest, like Snow White’s corpse in its glass coffin. Her skin was paler even than his. She was wearing a white, pristine dress, and that alone should have been a clue that this certainly wasn’t Evey, but Tony’s emotions fought the logical side of his brain, shushing it until it gave up trying to reason him, resigned.

Evey was dead.

He touched her face delicately. It felt like ice. His other hand gripped hers tightly. Then her eyes opened wide and Tony nearly stumbled backwards. “It’s your fault,” Evey said in an inhuman, gravelly voice. “I’m dead, and it’s all your fault.” Blood gushed from her throat, the flesh opening at the exact spot where he’d bitten her last May to get rid of Greyback once and for all. “You killed me, Tony.”

Tony felt a lump in his own throat. “I’m sorry.” He was crying. Somewhere deep inside, a part of his brain groaned at his stupidity. _Get over yourself, you idiot. It’s not real. It’s a nightmare specifically designed for you. It’s not-_

Walden’s corpse walked up to them at that moment. It was horribly burnt, as if he’d stepped directly under the sun. “You betrayed me, your own brother. You fell in love with my wife and you stole her from me. I had to end my life because of you, Tony. It’s all your fault.”

“We’re dead, and it’s all your fault,” the corpses said in unison.

Blood dripped from Tony’s eyes unto Evey’s face. _Stand up and leave, fledgling. It’s a trap._

That shook him out of his trance. His own brain was calling him “fledgling”?

“Jack?” he slurred. Evey’s body flickered slightly. _Yes, good. Banish it. Whatever it is you see, banish it from your mind. Return to us, fledgling. Don’t lose yourself in the nightmare._

Tony let go of Evey’s hand and stood unsteadily. Walden was losing some of his substance; he was almost see-through.

“You killed us, and now you abandon us?” Evey wailed. “It’s all your fault!”

“Coward. You must face the consequences,” Walden rasped.

Tony turned and took a few stumbling steps…

…and ran into Ted. The Wolf was utterly immobile. He didn’t react when Tony bumped into him. Tony glanced around and realised that they were still in that odd, grey, shapeless world. He quickly wiped at his cheeks with his sleeves, but it would only smear the bloody tears, so he stopped.

The Ripper was on Ted’s other side, talking in a low voice. When she noticed Tony, she spoke to him sharply. “About time. Help me with this one,” she commanded.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ted was staring ahead of him, his face frozen in terror, his fists clenched at his sides, and his nails must have clawed at his palms because he was bleeding. He was literally petrified with fear.

“Same thing that happened to you, I’m guessing. I think that, whatever is running this place, it was merely trying to figure out our worst fears before, toying with us. And now it’s decided to strike in earnest.”

Tony nodded. He didn’t like to think about what this meant, but it made sense. He had better focus on reviving the Wolf, so to speak. “Ted? You have to come back to us, mate. Nothing you see is real.” He clutched his arm. “ _This_ is real. Can you feel it?” He tightened his grip, until he was nearly crushing Ted’s arm. It had to be painful, but there was no reaction. “Ted?” The Ripper kept talking, so low that even Tony’s enhanced hearing couldn’t make out the words.

Then Ted abruptly shook himself, his expression changing from terror to pure embarrassment. Tony released his arm, but the Wolf didn’t even seem to notice. “Bloody hell.” It came out as a croak. He glanced at Tony. “Did you see it? Were you there, too?”

Tony shook his head. “I doubt that we saw the same things.” He really hoped not, anyway.

Ted hesitantly eyed the Ripper, who avoided his gaze. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Seriously?” a stranger’s voice called. It was low-pitched, cultivated, ominous. “Nothing?”

Tony turned toward the newcomer. He was tall and slender, with slicked dark hair and a thin moustache, and he wore an elegant, old-fashioned suit. He looked vaguely familiar – Tony’s brain itched as though he ought to recognise him, but he couldn’t say why. He didn’t know any demon personally.

“I beg your pardon?” Tony asked reflexively. He’d heard the question, but couldn’t make sense of it.

The man waved in Tony’s general direction. “I wasn’t addressing you, you love-struck puppy.” Indeed, his blue eyes were entirely focused on the Ripper. He looked…amazed. “Spiders?” he prompted. “Worms? Sharks? I once knew a gentleman who was afraid of wigs, and a young woman terrified of kumquats.” The Ripper gave him a blank stare. The man chuckled. “Well. This is a first. My lady, it is an honour to make your acquaintance.” He swept her a low bow, grinning like a wolf. “I mean, immortal beings are always a bit more difficult to trick, but there’s always _something_ …” He eyed Ted. “Cephalopods, though? Boring,” he commented mockingly. He turned to Tony, his smile fading and becoming a grimace of annoyance. “And dead loved ones. Of course. An all-time favourite.” He sighed, seemingly disappointed. “So cliché. People are so unimaginative. It’s barely a challenge, most of the time. But you, my dear…” He faced the Ripper again, studying her appraisingly. “Fascinating. Genuine fearlessness. Colour me impressed.”

The Ripper narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Who’re you, anyway? What do you want with us? Do you feed on people’s fear, or something, you bloody creep?”

The man laughed good-naturedly, and it was that very notorious laughter that finally did the trick. Tony’s brain unlocked and finally realised why the man looked familiar: the demon had, for some reason, taken the appearance of the late Vincent Price. Well, unless Vincent Price happened to be a demon. “I’m a greater demon, Miss Ripper. I do not need to feed. I merely enjoy scaring people to death. Literally.” He grinned. “My name is Abaddon. I’m sure you have heard of me,” he added confidently.

Well, the Department of Fear and Terror was run by _the_ fear demon. Hardly unexpected. And the Vincent Price disguise made sense, Tony supposed, at least from a Muggle point of view. Evey would have found this fascinating.

“Why do greater demons choose to appear human? And why _this_ specific human?” the Ripper demanded. Ah. She’d recognised him too, then. Tony sometimes forgot that the Ancients, despite their praeternatural powers, were essentially Muggles.

Abaddon shrugged. “You could not handle my true form. And movies have taught me that this man was an appropriate choice, given my…proclivity to terrify people.”

Tony blinked. “You…watch movies?” This just kept getting more bizarre by the minute.

“Of course! We have a special horror movie night every blood moon at the Department of Brain-Frying Entertainment. Very limited selection, but it is good fun. We have buttered eyeballs for snacks.” Tony grimaced, and Abaddon laughed at his reaction. “I jest, my dear man. We have popcorn. We’re not uncivilised savages.” He paused, his mirth fading somewhat. “In truth, eyeballs are not allowed anymore. It’s not hygienic.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I shouldn’t be telling you all this. Demons eating popcorn and watching movies… It probably does not make us sound very scary, does it?”

“Nope,” the Ripper concurred.

Abaddon smiled apologetically. “You’ve put me off my game, it seems.” He clapped his hands loudly, the sound cracking like a giant whip and resonating all around them. Lightning struck at their feet. Tony jumped at the sudden noise and Ted flinched. The Ripper remained utterly impassive. “Blimey!” Abaddon exclaimed, turning to the men to share in his amazement. “Isn’t she incredible?” He began to circle her, hands behind his back. “What’s your opinion on clowns?” The Ripper snorted in disdain. “Heights? The colour yellow? The number thirteen?” He chuckled softly. “Never understood that one. Everyone knows it’s nineteen that’s cursed.” He continued checking off random items out of a mental list. “Blue cheese? Remote controls? I assume that the sight of blood doesn’t make you feel faint,” he said wryly. “That would be problematic.”

The Ripper seemed to be growing impatient. “You won’t find anything,” she informed him coldly. “I was never scared of death, even before I became immune to it.” She put her hands on her hips. “Can we go now? We have important business to see to and no time for idle chitchat.”

Abaddon raised in hands in mock surrender. “Very well! No need to get feisty, little girl. I’m only doing my job.”

Her face hardened. “What did you call me?”

Abaddon’s expression became alarmed. “Nothing,” he said quickly.

Ted cleared his throat. “I think we’d better be off. I’ve had enough of this place.”

Tony nodded in agreement. “Mr Price…ah, I mean, Abaddon, could you direct us to the nearest portal?”

“Indeed I can. But I am not doing it for you,” he said, winking at the Ripper. The world shifted and became a deserted suburban street again. “See that garden gnome with the blue hat?” They all nodded when he pointed toward the gnome. “The portal will appear if you pick it up.” He bowed to the Ripper again. “I hope to see you again, milady. Good luck finding your lost friend!” he added cheerfully as he began to walk away.

They all stared at each other. “Wait!” Tony called out. “You know about Sirius? You know where he is?”

Abaddon paused, then glanced over his shoulder, an evil smirk on his face. “I certainly do! Fare thee well!” He evanesced with a small _poof_.

Ted swore under his breath. “What a twat.”

Tony was going to use another, stronger word when the Ripper began to laugh. It was a genuine bout of laughter, not her usual snigger. Ted and Tony both frowned at her in bewilderment. “What’s so amusing, lass?” Ted asked, his bushy eyebrows knit.

“You’re afraid of _calamari_?” she managed to say in a strangled voice.

Ted’s face changed colour several times, from white to pink to crimson. “Cephalopods, he said. That includes a rather large range of slimy, tentacled critters.” The Ripper was literally shaking with mirth. “Hey, it’s not funny!”

“It’s fucking hilarious!” she wheezed. “You’re an immortal werewolf, a former _pirate_ , and you’re afraid of _squids_!”

“I’ve suffered a traumatic experience,” he muttered, his cheeks still red with humiliation. “Burn you, stop making fun of me!”

That only caused the Ripper to laugh harder. She was holding her belly as if it hurt.

“Tell her to quit doing that,” Ted commanded Tony.

“Um… She won’t listen to me, mate.” He grinned suddenly. “Besides, you have to admit, it is a bit funny. I can understand finding squids a bit icky, but you were absolutely terrified…”

Ted threw up his hands in anger. “Screw you both!” He faced Tony squarely. “How about we discuss that _dead loved one_ instead? Anyone wanna bet who the corpse was?”

Tony’s grin faded. That wasn’t fair. _Evey_ … He shuddered. It had looked so real. And Walden’s accusations… “Alright, alright. Point taken. Squids are nasty.”

Ted nodded. “They are.” He glared at the Ripper, who was wiping bloody tears from her cheeks. Her face was a gory mess, like Tony’s, presumably. A spell would clean it up easily, but it could wait. “Get a grip, woman.”

She sniffled, a last giggle escaping her mouth. “Blimey. I haven’t laughed like this in over a decade.” Ted rolled his eyes. “But enough fooling around,” she went on firmly. “Let’s get going, people. Chop-chop.”

She started walking at her usual fast pace, heading straight for the garden gnome, but Tony caught up with her. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

She eyed him with a crooked smile. “I pride myself on being a cold-hearted bitch, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You don’t really mean that. You wouldn’t have come if you didn’t care about anything.”

She scoffed. “You think I volunteered for the suicide mission because I care about the mortal? Because the hybrid asked nicely? Fledgling, I came here for the sheer thrill of it. Just like _he_ did, should I remind you.” She gestured vaguely behind her, meaning Ted. “You’re the only one here who actually gives a damn, and we both think that you’re quite silly for that very reason. We tolerate it because it’s entertaining.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain about Ted not giving a damn,” Tony disagreed. “Of course he’s a thrill-seeker, but he’s doing this mostly for Evey, I’m sure of it. He’s her friend.”

“Yes… And so are you, to your greatest frustration, it would seem,” she said slyly.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Tony grumbled. Abaddon’s cruelty resided mainly in his words, he was beginning to think. The demon had known that the Ripper would mock their fears. Perhaps he’d intended to cause dissension in their little group.

Come to think of it, Abaddon seemed to know a great deal about them – he claimed to know about Sirius, and he’d called the Ripper by her nickname without a formal introduction. This was mildly disturbing.

The Ripper waved the conversation away as they reached the terra cotta gnome. “If you say so. Let’s focus on the hunt, then, shall we?”

_*The lyrics to the “lullaby” are from the movie_ Hotel Transylvania 2 _._


	13. Cool motive, still murder

Estelle was talking in rapid French, as usual, and even Mal had trouble keeping up with the translation. Evey wished that the woman would make an effort to speak English. Walden was studying Nicolas Flamel’s notes again.

“She says that a good part of the ingredients can be found at the…” Mal paused for a moment, perhaps looking for an adequate translation. “Shadow Market?”

“We call it the Midnight Market in Scotland,” Evey said. That was where witches, wizards and sentient beings exchanged goods and services that were not always strictly legal. Most cities had their own market. There was one in Edinburgh and Inverness, she knew, as well as in Glasgow. There must be one in Paris as well. “But I like Shadow Market better. Sounds mysterious. Let’s use that.”

Estelle continued talking heedlessly. “She says we’ll need her,” Mal translated. “She knows most of the suppliers, she is considered trustworthy and she knows exactly where to find the rarest ingredients, or at least where to enquire about them. They might not be immediately available.”

Evey groaned softly. She’d hoped to get rid of Estelle once they found the list of ingredients and the recipe for the cure, yet here they were, stuck in her secret basement underneath the bookshop. She wished Walden and she had kept the hotel room in which they’d slept the previous day, after her argument with Malkoran, but she wanted to keep an eye on the French woman. Evey was 98% certain that Estelle was trying to screw them over, which was why she’d asked Walden to go over the notes again.

Estelle kept rambling on, but Evey was only half-listening to Malkoran now. Walden was frowning. “Did you find something?” she asked him.

The other two stopped talking. Walden looked up at her, nodding, then he eyed Estelle and spoke to her in French. “He says that one of the ingredients on the list is not mentioned at all in the formula,” Mal translated. “The Valkyrie’s feather. He’s asking her if she can explain this inconsistency.”

Evey smirked. “And there it is,” she said before Estelle could come up with an explanation. “She needs that for something personal, but she doesn’t know how to get it. Told you she was shady,” she said to Walden.

Estelle glared at her and spat some French words that sounded vaguely familiar. “She says…” Mal hesitated. “Mm, I don’t think this needs translating.” Walden said something else. He looked angry. “He says she shouldn’t take advantage of the fact that you don’t speak French to be rude to you.”

Evey shrugged. “Sticks and stones… I’ve certainly heard worse from Jeanne, anyway.” She sat down on Walden’s lap and fixed Estelle. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen, frog. You’re going to tell us everything. Why there’s an extra ingredient, why you’re ‘helping’ us, if these notes are even the real ones… Then we’ll take it all into consideration and decide what to do about it. About you. _And_ ,” she added before Estelle could reply, “you will do it in English.”

Estelle pouted with disgust at the last injunction. “Fine!” She exhaled sharply. “The notes are real. I just added that one thing because, yes, I need it for myself. I took a shot in the dark, to be honest. Didn’t think you’d ever find out about it. I assumed that, when you saw the whole list of ludicrous ingredients, you’d just give up and walk away. And you were surprised, as expected, but far from hopeless. Like you thought you could actually get these silly things.” She paused, looking into Evey’s eyes. “Can you?”

“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.

“So you can summon greater demons?” Estelle asked. “Command them to do your bidding?”

Evey squinted. “I thought you’d summoned plenty of them over the years. Your own words.”

“I have. I’ve held several of them in a pentacle. But I’ve never managed to make them do anything useful. One of them almost killed me,” Estelle said wistfully. “I do not have Pernelle’s skill. But perhaps you do.”

“How we can obtain these ingredients is none of your business,” Evey said. “Just know that we can, and we will. The ones we need, anyway.”

Estelle laughed. “Including the obscurial’s cerebrospinal fluid? Believe me, I’ve seen some weird ingredient requirements over the years, but never anything as fucked-up as that.”

Evey didn’t answer. She didn’t know if Hades could provide that. In fact, he’d insisted that he couldn’t actually _give_ them anything himself; he could transport them wherever they needed to go, but they’d have to get the ingredients themselves.

Estelle seemed to sense her hesitation and she seized her chance. “Get me the Valkyrie feather, and I will find you everything else, yes? Well, everything that’s available on earth,” she amended. “Including the cerebrospinal fluid. I know a guy...” She smiled mischievously as she trailed off.

“Why do you need the feather?” Evey demanded. “I won’t be party to you brewing some nasty poison or whatever it is you have in mind. At least our intentions are pure. We’re trying to save someone. It’s worth a few…lesser wrongdoings.”

“I need it for the elixir. The Elixir of Life.”

“Yeah, about the Elixir of Life,” Walden jumped into the conversation. “It says here that ‘any version of it will do’. What does that mean? How many versions are there and what’s the difference between them?”

Estelle waved his question away. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you literally just said that you needed the feather for the elixir,” Evey said with some aggravation. Gods, the woman was a pain in the arse. Why were French women so irritating? “Is the current elixir not good enough?”

“The notes say you can use whichever version of it, therefore your question is irrelevant.”

“I don’t think you understand what’s going on here, lady.” Evey leaned forward, with a care not to…crush anything as she adjusted her position. “We have the higher ground, so to speak. We already have the list and the formula. It may take us a longer time without your assistance, but eventually we’ll get everything we need.”

“You’re fooling yourself if you believe that,” Estelle sneered. “No one at the market will trust you. They will overcharge you for the most mundane ingredients and never let you check the illegal merchandise.”

“We don’t actually have to go to the Paris market, you realise that, right? We can go to Edinburgh, or any place where we’re not considered foreigners, and people will let us-”

Estelle snorted. “It’s got nothing to do with you being foreigners. You look like…police. Like badly disguised undercover Aurors who will get everyone arrested at the market. You have that quality about you which clearly states that you’re an honest person and that you don’t belong in such a place. You’d be lucky if anyone even talked to you.”

“She’s…not wrong,” Walden said. “Besides, I’m known at the Edinburgh market. I _have_ arrested people there. Birmingham, Liverpool and London are out of the question, too. The English markets are insanely dangerous and counterfeit merchandise abounds. We’ll get scammed for sure.”

“Okay, fine!” Evey huffed. She crossed her arms as she turned to Estelle again. “You need something from us. We need something from you. The difference is that you know exactly what we need this for. We don’t-”

“You _really_ want to know?” Estelle interrupted her. “I don’t think you can handle the truth, little girl. And at the end of the day, you’ll still need your stuff, and I’ll need my feather, except then you will despise me and you won’t agree to this and neither of us will be happy. Is that what you want?”

“I can handle it,” Evey said coldly. She’d handled much worse than this. And she was willing to do pretty much anything to save Sirius, but she needed to know the implications beforehand.

Estelle shook her head, chuckling softly. “Very well. There are three versions of the Elixir of Life. The first was the one that Nico and Nelle used. It kept them alive, but…”

“…not young,” Evey finished for her. She had a feeling that she knew where this was going.

“Indeed. My version does. It’s actually the original version, though Pernelle deemed it too…” She sighed. “She decided that she’d rather die than consume it in this form, so Nico tweaked it and they both agreed that it was better to age until they looked like walking corpses than to use the first version.”

“What’s the horrifying ingredient that keeps you youthful, then?” Evey asked without preamble.

“It’s frightfully unoriginal, I’m afraid,” Estelle replied. “The blood of an innocent maiden.”

“Okay…” She’d probably get along with Elizabeth Báthory just fine. “Well, that can be purchased at the market, can’t it? It’s not much worse than the cerebro-whatever fluid.”

“I do have a contact at the market who helps me obtain what I need…” Estelle said nonchalantly. “But the problem, you see, is that every batch of elixir requires _all_ of the victim’s blood.” Evey blinked. “Yes, I have to exsanguinate an innocent maiden every seven to nine months. It’s quite unfortunate.”

“Quite unfortunate,” Evey repeated weakly. Okay, this was much worse than she’d anticipated.

“The good news is,” Estelle went on, “if you get me the feather, I won’t need to do that anymore. This last version of the elixir, according to Nico’s notes, is supposed to grant the person who consumes it eternal life and youth without needing to drink it ever again – which is lucky, because making the elixir will destroy the Philosopher’s Stone and I have no idea how to make another one.”

It took Evey some time to take this in, but Walden processed the information much faster than she did. “You never created one yourself,” he said quietly. “The one you wear as a pendant, it’s the original, isn’t it? The one Flamel made.”

“Merlin,” Evey breathed. “Did you _kill_ him?”

Estelle gestured dramatically. “I had to, didn’t I? Old fool was going to destroy it and he’d already reduced his research notes to ashes. What choice did I have?” No one bothered to answer that. “Oh, don’t give me those judgmental looks,” she growled. “You can’t raise a child and tell her she’s going to live forever and then take it away from her just because-”

“Wait, what?” Evey broke in. “The Flamels raised you?” It was probably an error of language. She couldn’t mean that.

Estelle rolled her eyes. “Yes, they adopted me. About fifty years ago. The elixir they were consuming, it made them both infertile. Then Pernelle suddenly had to have a child, and that’s where I came in. I became Nico’s assistant,” she reminisced. “I would have studied summoning with Nelle, but it was deemed too dangerous for a child, and when I grew up it was too late. I was in love with alchemy. Believe me, I regret it now,” she said bitterly. “Would have been much more useful to me.”

“Okay but…so you…” Evey stammered. “You killed your… _father_?”

“My adoptive father,” Estelle corrected her. “Pernelle, too. She tried to stop me, tried to destroy the Stone. I couldn’t allow that.” She shrugged. “So what? If they’d destroyed the Stone, they would have died anyway, within a month. I only accelerated the process. It was a kindness, really.”

Evey shuddered. The utter indifference in Estelle’s voice was chilling. Gods, she hated to be right, but in this case, she’d been right indeed. No wonder she felt that there was something off about Estelle: the woman was a cold-blooded serial killer who’d murdered the only parents she’d ever known, all merely to retain her youth. Granted, she was gorgeous, but was it really worth it?

Malkoran muttered something under his breath. Evey didn’t think it was either English or French, but it sounded like he was agreeing with her own inner thoughts.

“Oh, don’t give me that, pretty boy,” Estelle said with a smirk. “Remind me, how many people did you kill last week? Well, ‘butcher’ seems like a more appropriate term for it. And thanks for storing them at the house without asking, by the way. Nice little surprise for me. For future reference, I do love gifts as much as the next person, but I prefer flowers.”

“That was different!” Evey exclaimed. “These blokes attacked us, for Merlin’s sake. They severed my-” She stopped talking abruptly. She couldn’t very well explain to this woman that Travers had cut off her leg but that it had regrown afterwards, could she?

Also, how did Estelle know that Mal was responsible for the Death Eaters' demise?

Estelle regarded her curiously. “Legitimate defence, was it? That doesn’t change the fact that five people are dead, though. And you look perfectly fine to me, whatever they…severed.”

“Look, we’ll clean up the house, okay? We should discuss-”

“No need,” Estelle said. “It’s done. I harvested all the interesting parts before disposing of the bodies.”

Evey stared at her. “Is that why you booby-trapped the place? So you’d have…spare human parts to use to brew your evil potions?”

“Essentially, yes,” she replied dismissively. “Now, about our earlier conversation. Do we have an agreement, or not? You get me my feather, and I-”

Evey shook her head. “No way.”

“I knew you’d have a problem with this,” Estelle said with a theatrical sigh.

“V… She may be our only chance at getting everything we need,” Walden pointed out. “Our…friend was very clear about the extent of the assistance he’s willing to give us.”

“Your ‘friend’?” Estelle said. “How very mysterious. Do you have a pet demon? Ooh, a pet _greater_ demon? Now, that would be impressive. And convenient. Did you sell your soul to it, or-”

“Enough about demons,” Malkoran said sharply. “How do we know that you won’t deceive us?”

“That’s easy,” Evey said before Estelle could speak. “We gather all of our ingredients first. We brew the cure. We wait until Sirius is safe, so we know that this is the right potion made with the proper ingredients and that it’s working as it should. And only _then_ do we give her the feather.” If they were going to Valhalla to get some mead, they might as well obtain a Valkyrie feather while they were at it.

She expected a cry of outrage from Estelle and arduous negotiations, but the woman was nodding along. “I’ll even help you with the potion, if you let me – it looks like a pernickety one, and I am a Master Potioneer _and_ a Master Alchemist, after all. Wouldn’t want you to screw it up and have to start over, now, would we?” she said airily.

“What’s the catch?” Evey demanded. It seemed too good to be true.

“No catch,” she said. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine, isn’t that what you people say?”

“You really want that bloody feather, don’t you?” Walden said.

“Wouldn’t you? Didn’t you hear what I said, earlier? It will make me immortal and forever young. Who wouldn’t want that?”

Malkoran chuckled mirthlessly. “Who indeed.”

* * *

“I still don’t trust her,” Evey announced as soon as Estelle was gone. She claimed that she had to make some preparations before they could go to the market – Malkoran was going to accompany her, mainly to keep an eye on her. Estelle said that he was the least likely to stand out and cause trouble. “I mean, she played the shockingly truthful card but… I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t like her.”

“Neither do I,” Walden said. “Trust her or like her,” he clarified.

“She has no reason to sabotage this,” Malkoran said. Evey frowned at him. “I do not like her, but I believe her. She…reminds me of Elle, somewhat. Practical and brutally honest, but fair.”

“Are you kidding me? She’s the metaphorical devil incarnate!” Evey said.

“What does that make me?” Mal asked quietly. “The actual devil incarnate?”

Evey groaned in exasperation. “Enough with the self-deprecation, I beg you. You were a violent, vicious asshole, sure, I get it, but that was ages ago, Mal. Move on, for fuck’s sake. You’re not that person anymore. I wouldn’t like you if you were, okay? I tend to despise murderous bastards, in case you didn’t know that about me.”

“But Estelle made a valid point. These Death Eaters…”

“…attacked us! I know, an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, all that nonsense, but come on. No one blames you for that. And no one else knows nor cares. So please, for everyone’s sake, forget about it. When we’ve seen this through, you can go back to Kunlun and cleanse your soul or whatever, if you think that’ll help, but right now I need you to focus, alright? We need to be thorough. We need to be prepared. While you and Estelle go to the market, Walden and I should plan ahead and maybe contact some of your Wolves. Do you have their phone numbers?”

“I do, but I have been told that it was better to communicate via…electronic mail.”

“Fine by me, but do you have their email addresses?” Mal nodded, a trifle uncertainly. Clearly, he’d never attempted to contact anyone through that fancy new means of Muggle communication. He extracted a notebook from his pocket and handed it to her. Evey opened it at random. Well: she was now in possession of William the Conqueror’s personal phone number. Years after learning of their existence, she still marvelled at the incongruity. “Do you think there are any internet cafés in this bloody city?” she asked Walden. Muggle cafés with internet access were quite the trend, apparently.

“We’ll ask Estelle when she comes back.”

Uh-oh. He sounded grouchy again. Was it because they were going to ask the Wolves for help? Hades couldn’t do everything, he had to understand that. She decided to change the subject, at least for the time being. She picked up the translated version of the ingredients list and scanned it quickly. Estelle and Walden had neatly categorised everything: what could be obtained at the Shadow Market, ranked by price range and rarity (utensils included); what Walden or Estelle already had available at home and, lastly, what Estelle had deemed “impossible” to find.

“One eyelash from a Dementor-kissed person,” she read aloud. “Why did you put that in the last category? The Dementors are gone now, but they sucked a few souls during the war, didn’t they? If this can’t be purchased at the Shadow Market, all we have to do is find one of their victims and steal an eyelash… It’s not like they need them anyway.”

“Azkaban was the only place where you could find Dementors,” Walden said. “Estelle says that, when they were banished, after the war, everyone rushed to the market and bought all of the available Dementor-related supplies. There’s nothing left. As for finding victims, it’s easier said than done. A soulless person is technically brain-dead, but they can’t be declared legally dead until the body is…disposed of. The family has to give permission to, well, euthanize them. It’s obviously a mercy, which is why the victims of Dementors rarely ‘live’ long after they’ve been kissed.”

Evey considered this for a moment. “So…grave-robbing?” she suggested.

Walden arched an eyebrow. “I think Estelle is a bad influence on you, love.”

“It’s a very minor crime,” she muttered. She looked up suddenly, her eyes widening. “What about that bloke… Ugh, I’m really bad with names. The Death Eater who impersonated Moody for an entire school year?”

“Crouch,” Walden said. “Bartemius Crouch Junior.”

“Well, he got kissed by a Dementor, right? I remember Dumbledore being pretty miffed about it. Any idea what happened to him? I mean, if we have to desecrate a tomb, I’d rather desecrate that of a Death Eater…”

“How should I know? I wasn’t invited to the funeral.”

Evey tapped her fingers on the table. “Would Kingsley know, do you think?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “I’ll call him.” She walked toward the stairs; there was no reception in the basement. Before she exited the room, she glanced back. “Be nice, you two,” she commanded. “I’ll be just a minute.”

* * *

“What are you looking at?” Walden asked sharply.

Mal blinked and turned toward him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t give me that,” he snarled. “You were ogling my wife. Just now. I saw it, so don’t bother denying it.”

Well, he had been staring in Evangeline’s direction, true, but his mind was not focused on anything in particular. He had to walk on eggshells around Walden. This quest to save their friend’s life had caused a sort of momentary truce between the two of them, but it was precarious. “My gaze strayed for an instant. I apologise,” he said calmly. Hopefully, this would suffice to defuse the situation. After all, Mal had caught Walden looking at Estelle appreciatively.

“I can’t believe she bought your ridiculous lies,” Walden scoffed. “Celibate for over five millennia, my arse.”

Malkoran’s eyes narrowed. Evangeline was a lot of things but, clearly, she couldn’t be trusted with a secret. “No matter how ridiculous and improbable it may seem to you, it is the truth,” he said. “There has been no one else.”

“Let’s clear the air once and for all,” Walden barked, ignoring everything that Mal had just said. “Did you sleep with my wife while I was in Middle-earth?”

Mal eyed him flatly. “Have you not asked her?”

“Of course I haven’t bloody asked her! She already believes that I’m paranoid. But I’m not, am I? There is something between you two. Or there was.”

The conversation was going down a road that Mal would have preferred to avoid altogether. He ought to steer clear, perhaps ignore the question entirely. On the other hand, it may be best to set the record straight once and for all. He had no intention of romancing Evangeline now that her husband had returned, but to say that he had never contemplated the idea would be an outright lie.

“I suppose there could have been,” he replied truthfully. “I considered it. Elle was ignoring me and I was at an impasse with her. Evangeline is always willing to listen to my commiserations, she is easy to talk to, she gives good advice…and she does not judge people. Well, not until she has all the information. And I’ve seen the way she looks at me, sometimes.” Walden had gone paler than usual, if that was possible. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides. “Moreover, it would have certainly pleased Edward. He seems to think that Evangeline has a beneficial influence on me and he was not subtle about it.” If there had ever been a chance that Walden would come to appreciate Edward, Mal had effectively snuffed it out now. “That being said, I suspect that wooing her would have taken a long time. She was quite beset by grief. It likely would have been an idyll, in any case, nothing more. I’m convinced that Ellessin and I are meant to be reunited eventually and to stay together for the rest of our lives, however long they may last.”

Walden remained speechless, which was a good thing because Evangeline had just opened the door. “I bear good news!” she shouted from the top of the stairs. “Barty Crouch Junior is currently residing where he spent most of his adult life: in a cell at Azkaban.” She reached the bottom of the staircase and scowled at her husband. “Wal? What’s going on?” She turned to Mal, who shrugged. She threw her hands up in despair. “Seriously? I was gone for _two minutes_! What is wrong with you?”

When no one answered, she sniffed loudly. “Can you just be civilised until we’re done here?”

“I don’t think I can, actually,” Walden said roughly. “He should leave. We don’t need him, V.”

Such a childish reaction. Estelle had a point; they insisted on having the truth, but they couldn’t handle it when it was delivered.

Evangeline hesitated; from her scent, Mal could tell that she was deeply worried, although she was doing her best to look angry instead. “Can either of you explain what happened, so I can sort it out?”

“Can’t you just accept what I’m saying without questioning it, for once?” Walden demanded. “I’m your husband, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Whoa, hey, don’t yell at me!” Evangeline protested. “Of course I’m questioning this, I don’t even know what you’re fighting about!” Now she did smell angry, Mal noted. “And what the fuck do you mean by ‘I’m your husband’? I’m sorry, am I supposed to blindly obey you, great master?”

Someone laughed: Estelle was back. _Right on time_ , Mal thought.

“Trouble in paradise, huh?” she said as she walked down the stairs. She looked remarkably smug, as though she was responsible for the quarrel. Mal had already determined that she was the sort of person who thrived on chaos.

Like a demon.

“Is there an internet café somewhere in the area?” Evangeline asked Estelle. “I have work to do while these two idiots sort their shit out.”

“The _Café Orbital_ , near the _Jardin du Luxembourg_. It’s a fifteen-minute walk.” There was silence as Evangeline grabbed her purse and checked that she still had Mal’s address book. Estelle observed her curiously. “You do realise that it’s the middle of the night, though, yes? It will be closed.”

“Then I’ll wander around the fucking _jardin_ until it opens,” Evangeline snapped as she headed for the stairs.

“That will be closed, too,” Estelle remarked. Evangeline spun, looking ready to throw her purse in Estelle’s face. “How about we go get ourselves a drink while these two idiots sort their shit out, as you so poetically put it?”

An hour ago, Mal was sure, Evangeline would have laughed in her face, but now she merely nodded. “Lead the way,” she muttered. She didn’t look back as she followed Estelle outside.


	14. I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

For once, Tony was the first on the other side of the green portal that materialised when he picked up the garden gnome. He was relieved to be out of Abaddon’s realm.

The new landscape was…disorienting. It looked positively heavenly, compared to the last realms they’d visited. The sky was cloudless, sunny and otherwise normal-looking. They stood in a field of wild flowers and green grass. In the distance, golden mountains sparkled. The air smelled of springtime. A rabbit hopped past them, its fluffy tail bouncing happily.

“Well, this is bad,” Tony murmured. The other two nodded in agreement.

“You reckon Abaddon’s still messing with us?” Ted asked. “Because the nightmare began like this. The place he made me see looked just as idyllic as this one, before the horrors attacked.” He shuddered. Tony couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the former pirate to make him so terrified of cephalopods. Then again, as a wizard, he knew what sort of beasts haunted the bottom of the oceans. There were monstrous serpents down there, krakens, ancient creatures such as the mosasaur… Seeing one could perturb anyone, and especially a Muggle.

The Ripper shook her head. “Abaddon would have separated us. He knows that nothing will work on me,” she said smugly. “So he would have made certain that I couldn’t save your arses. Again.”

“Yeah, thanks for that, by the way,” Tony said, realising that he hadn’t yet thanked her. He wondered what would have happened if he’d gotten stuck in the nightmarish fake reality that Abaddon had created especially for him.

The Ripper waved his words aside. “My point is, this realm will certainly present a new kind of threat, and we have no idea what it will be.” She glanced around, eyes narrowed. “Judging by our surroundings, it will quite terrible.”

A roebuck sauntered by, utterly unafraid. It gave them a curious look before moving onward. Tony noticed a large herd of deer further away. “This would make a great hunting ground,” Ted commented idly. He was sniffing in the direction of the herd. “Smells yummy. Just like the real thing.”

Tony frowned. “Yeah, that’s weird. I didn’t expect to see surface world animals in here. You think they’re fabricated, mere props, like in Abaddon’s Department?”

“Possibly,” the Ripper said. “But why deer?”

The sky changed abruptly. It turned a darker blue, then nearly black; night had fallen in the blink of an eye. The moon ascended quickly, until it was right above them. It was full and much larger than it was in the human world. Stars slowly winked into existence, as if an invisible hand was flicking them alight one by one.

Ted stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes shifting from brown to honey yellow.

Tony and the Ripper halted. “They can control the transformation, right?” he said in a low voice. “Even under a full moon?”

“Technically…yes.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced, though.

The moon turned a dark shade of crimson: a blood moon. The sort that forced the change upon all werewolves, Wolves included. Ted began to shake violently.

“Um, mate? You alright there?” Tony took a few steps backwards as he spoke. Ted’s limbs elongated, fur sprouting everywhere. His jaw creaked ominously as it enlarged and his teeth popped out of his mouth and were immediately replaced by vicious fangs.

“We should run, fledgling,” the Ripper said conversationally.

“Why? Even in werewolf form, he knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he? He's still lucid. He won’t attack us.” Ted fell on all four, his massive clawed paws making the ground quake under his weight. He was larger than a grizzly bear. His eyes glowed like pure, molten gold. He growled at them, baring his fangs.

“Run,” the Ripper said, more forcefully. “Now!” She nudged Tony in the ribs and followed her own advice. It was pointless. They could never outrun Ted. Ancients possessed supernatural speed, but so did the Wolves, especially in animal form.

As Tony sprinted aimlessly, speeding through the beautiful fields, trampling flowers and narrowly avoiding fluffy bunnies, a howl resounded behind him.

He was the rabbit, now.

And then the scenery changed, just like it had in Abaddon’s realm. Tony stumbled to a halt when he realised that he was no longer being pursued by a giant, rabid Wolf. He was in a dingy alley, and the world stank of piss and soot. It was a misty, stuffy night. A church bell echoed in the distance. A mangy cat hissed at him, then bravely fled.

Tony wasn’t sure where to go. He was alone in the alley-

Oh. No, he wasn’t. A young, red-headed woman was drinking from a flask, leaning against the door of a shabby building. She was…scantily dressed, in an old-fashioned way. She smiled at him invitingly. “A good evening to you, sir,” she said in a throaty voice. She put the flask inside her bodice and started walking toward him, her narrow hips swaying enticingly.

“Ah…sorry. I, um, got lost.” He paused as she approached him. She was wearing an insane amount of make-up, so that her face was barely distinguishable underneath. Tony was pretty sure that she was wearing a wig. “Have you seen my friends? A scary-looking lady with short, white hair and-”

“I’m here, fledgling,” the Ripper said.

Tony started. She was right behind him. “Oh. Where’s-”

“Move aside,” she commanded. Tony complied hesitantly. “Now leave.”

He shot her a puzzled look. “What? Why?”

“This isn’t for the faint of heart,” she murmured. “And I like my privacy.” A dagger glinted in her hand. She took a step toward the young woman, who was obviously beginning to regret taking a booze break.

Tony grabbed the Ripper by the arm. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed at her. “We have to find Ted.”

With seemingly no effort, the Ripper made him release his grip on her and sent him flying. Tony crashed against a wall and slid to the ground, stunned. He didn’t know how it worked for the Wolves, but Ancients got stronger as they got older, and Tony was the youngest of them all. Still, as the unnamed woman began to scream, he decided that he had to do something. Anything.

He crouched and prepared to jump. If he packed enough weight, he would at least destabilise the Ripper. A moment later, as the blade caressed the girl’s bodice, Tony went airborne.

He landed in water.

It was so unexpected that he panicked, trashing about, drowning. Then he remembered that he didn’t breathe and slowly calmed down. The water was deep. He couldn’t tell which way was up, couldn’t see the surface; there was no light. Even knowing that he couldn’t drown, it was distressing. He began to swim. Any human would have run out of air by the time Tony finally broke the surface, inhaling air reflexively. He wiped water from his eyes and looked around. He seemed to be in the middle of a lake. The bank wasn’t too distant, and Tony swam toward it, eventually crawling on land.

He was lying on his back in the mud, his clothes drenched. The night sky was clear and starry, the moon a bare crescent. What the fuck had just happened?

“Are you alright?”

Tony tensed as he recognised the voice. _No_. _Not again. Please._

“Tony?” Evey kneeled beside him. “Are you alright?”

“Look, I don’t know what you are, but leave me the hell alone,” Tony said harshly as he sat up. He muttered a spell to dry his clothes and stood, ruffling his hair.

Evey stood, too. She was frowning. “Tony, it’s me. I’m just worried. You look…upset. What were you doing in the lake fully clothed?” She placed a hand on his arm. “What’s wrong? You know you can talk to me, right?”

_It’s not really her. You need to get out of here. Find the others._ He removed Evey’s hand and gazed into her eyes. He’d vaguely hoped that they would be crimson red, or that her tongue would be forked, any sign that she was a demon or a figment of his imagination, but no such luck. The imitation was flawless. She was wearing some of Evey’s everyday clothes – dark jeans and a too-large Nirvana t-shirt. Her wavy hair was the exact same length, the same colour, and the beauty spots were all in the right places. Her hazel eyes were brimming with concern. “Don’t push me away, Tony,” she said.

_No, you fool._ It _said._ _Not ‘_ she’. _This is not Evey_.

“Leave me alone, foul beast,” Tony said weakly. It was difficult. His heart contracted at the hurt expression on her face. “What have you done to my friends, you monster?”

A single tear ran down her cheek. “Why are you being like that? _I’m_ your friend, Tony.” She took his hands. Hers were pleasantly warm in contrast to Tony’s corpse-cold ones. “Don’t push me away,” she repeated softly, moving closer to him.

“Look, I don’t know what this is, what game you’re playing, but it’s not working, alright? I literally just escaped one of Abaddon’s nightmares. I won’t fall for this cheap trick again, demon.”

Evey released his hands and hugged him instead, her chest pressing against his. Tony stood frozen in place.

_It’s not her. It’s not her. It’s not her._ Tony’s brain, which had so bravely attempted to rescue him in Abaddon’s vision of horror, seemed to have stopped functioning altogether. Then again, the rational voice he’d heard in the nightmare had probably been the Ripper’s, not his own conscience.

_She’s so warm._ _She fits just right._

“It’s okay,” Evey murmured. “You’ve been through a lot. I can make it all better.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. His resolve melted away, his arms moving around her waist of their own accord.

It was everything he’d always dreamed of; it was that one perfect kiss that happened once in a lifetime and whose memory lingered on forever.

_Push her away! You’re snogging a bloody demon, you wanker!_

_But it feels so right!_

Evey’s hands moved along his chest as she deepened the kiss, moaning softly against his lips.

_She’s so soft, so warm. She tastes like heaven._

_BEGONE, DEMON!_

_It was meant to be._

The next three words broke him irreparably: “I love you,” Evey whispered when she paused the kiss to breathe. She was panting slightly, her cheeks a bright pink. Maybe it really was her. She looked uncannily human. “Kiss me again,” she commanded, wrapping her arms around his neck and forcing him to lean down. Tony complied with barely a pause. He quickly lost himself in the warmth and softness of her.

_"I love you_."

_No, she doesn't. She loves Walden. Your brother, remember?_

_"I love you."_

_No, she-_

_Please, whatever this is, let me be forever trapped in here with her._

In the background, a thousand miles away, in another galaxy, someone cleared their throat. “I hope we’re not interrupting?”

Tony started and reflexively tried to turn to identify the person who'd so rudely interrupted them, but Evey held on firmly to him. Uh. She was stronger than she looked. Tony glanced at her face, and his stomach roiled. _Now_ her eyes were crimson red. He pushed her away, stumbling backward. Ted caught his arm. “Steady there, mate. I got you.”

“Reveal thyself, demon!” the Ripper shouted at the Evey creature.

It began to shift. The skin turned purple, the hair vanished. It grew twenty inches taller. The face was featureless, like a store mannequin. Tony felt sick. Had he really kissed _that_?

What was _wrong_ with him?

Ted patted his shoulder. “It’s alright. That one’s a nasty bugger. We all fell for it. Even Miss Ripper, this time,” he added with a satisfied smile.

The Ripper shot him a baleful glare. “I don’t suppose you’d conveniently turn into a bloodthirsty beast and rip it apart? No? You only do that to your friends?”

“I didn’t even touch you!” Ted protested. “I just nipped a few rabbits, is all.”

The fake Evey hadn’t moved. It was just standing there, observing them. When it finally spoke, its voice sounded ethereal, inhuman. It was devoid of emotion. “You’re a good kisser,” it told Tony. His cheeks would have burned in shame, were he not a vampire. “Too bad your soul mate already belongs to someone else.” It started pacing, keeping its distance. “But you and I, we could be together, you know. You belong in this world. I can shape myself in her image, if that’s what you want.” She returned to her Evey impersonation. She smiled exactly as Evey would have smiled, and it felt like a knife twisting in Tony’s heart. “I could be her, for you. Forever, if you so desire.”

Ted whistled quietly. “Well, that’s messed up.”

“Don’t listen to it, fledgling,” the Ripper said.

He glowered at her. “What, you think I’m going to marry it or something?” he snarled. “Fuck you, I know it’s not Evey. And even if it _was_ Evey, I would never-”

“Tsk, tsk,” the demon said, abandoning Evey’s body. “Of course you would. And you will. Someday. Don’t despair, little fledgling.” The words sounded odd, spoken without any inflection. Tony couldn’t decide if it was making fun of him or trying to be genuinely reassuring. “She’s your soul mate. It’s meant to be.”

“She’s _married_ to my _brother_ ,” Tony said through gritted teeth.

“But he’s going to die, eventually. That’s what mortals do, isn’t it?”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know what to think. His brain was full of images of Evey and Walden dancing at their wedding, superimposed by images of him kissing Demon Evey. He was also very aware of the Ripper and Ted at his side. What would they think of him, pining for his brother’s wife? Well, Ted already knew, but it didn’t make the situation any less embarrassing.

“Alright, that’s enough,” the Ripper declared. “You’ve had your fun, succubus. Leave now, or I will destroy you.”

The demon turned its face toward her. A second later, it looked like the spitting image of Ted.

They all stared at it for a moment. “Um…what’s this now?” Ted asked, obviously confused.

The Ripper launched herself at the demon with a wordless battle cry, daggers flashing. The twin blades found the succubus’s eyes and the demon vanished instantly. The world faded out of focus, shimmering and pulsing, then took form again. They were on a paved road, with nothing behind nor ahead of them. The sky was gone. Their immediate surroundings were grey, insubstantial. There was only the road, which seemed to stretch infinitely.

The Ripper tumbled gracefully and landed in a crouch. With barely a pause, she stood, wiped the black ichor off of her blades on a handkerchief and sheathed her daggers. “Well. That’s dealt with,” she said matter-of-factly. “Shall we?”

“Um…” Tony hesitated. She didn’t seem to be in a good mood, despite being finally allowed to kill something. “Thanks for slaying the demon, but…” She narrowed her eyes at him, as though daring him to finish that sentence.

“We have no idea where the next portal is,” Ted said bluntly. “We could have asked the…succubus thingy, but, well, it’s dead now.”

“Not dead,” the Ripper corrected him. “Demons can’t really die. Its essence is wandering somewhere in the void, but it’ll materialise again soon enough. Do you want to be there when it does? Are you hungry for more rabbits?”

“No, but-”

“Then I suggest we start walking,” she said acidly. “We’re bound to stumble upon a portal at some point.”

“Or some other demon,” Tony mumbled.

The Ripper rounded on him, eyes flashing. “This is the Demon Realm, fledgling. What did you expect? Cute bunnies and flower fields all the way up to wherever Black is? A tourist information booth? Maybe a few Bloody Mary cocktails along the way?”

He’d known where they were going, and he hadn’t expected a smooth journey, but he had never imagined that Evey would be involved in any shape or form of torture. Yes, he’d been naïve, but that was no reason to constantly mock him.

Ted opened his mouth, probably to tell her off, but the Ripper spoke right over him. “I’m tired of your whining, boy. Get a grip. And for Lilith’s sake, I implore you, stop day-dreaming about your bloody soul mate for a fucking minute. It’s obviously attracting unwanted attention. It makes you an easy target.”

“She’s not my soul mate!” Tony yelled at her. “That’s not even a _thing_! The very concept is the stuff of fairy tales!”

The Ripper scoffed. “How can you, of all people, not believe in this?”

For a moment, he was too stunned to retort, but he found his voice again. “Do _you_ believe in soul mates?” He glanced at Ted in disbelief, but the Wolf merely shrugged, waving him off with a _leave me out of this_ gesture. “It’s ridiculous! And even if it was real, how could Evey possibly have _two_ soul mates? That makes no sense!”

“Why not? She’s immortal.” The Ripper cut off his protest. “I know that we have no concrete proof of this yet, but she very likely is. If she’s going to live thousands of years, why couldn’t she have multiple soul mates? One dies, another reveals himself. Or herself, who knows. It makes even more sense considering that she’s dating a mere mortal now.” Dating? She was _married_. It wasn’t like Evey and Walden were having a meaningless fling. “It makes more sense for an immortal person to have an immortal soul mate. Besides, having a soul mate doesn’t necessarily imply having a romantic relationship with them,” the Ripper went on reasonably. “She’s the other half of you, she complements you. That could just mean that she’s the…ultimate platonic best friend, or something like that. The girl is closer to you than she is to her husband. Everyone with half a brain who’s spent five minutes in your company can see it. Maybe the mongrel is not her soul mate at all, just one lover among many to come.”

“Don’t call him a-”

She ignored him. “In any case, the demon had a point: your brother won’t be around forever.”

“Stop talking,” Tony said harshly. Under any other circumstances, he would never dare use that tone with the Ripper, but she was overstepping. She had no right to say such insane things. She made it sound reasonable, but it was still insane. It was insulting.

Miraculously, she did stop talking. She didn’t glare at him or stab him. She merely shrugged.

Tony didn’t feel like arguing the matter at length. He didn’t want to talk about Evey anymore. It might “attract unwanted attention”. “Can we just agree to never, _ever_ , discuss what just happened, not with anyone? Can we keep this to ourselves?” he pleaded miserably.

Ted clasped his shoulder. “You know what they say: what happens in Pandemonium, stays in Pandemonium.” He tried for a smile, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Tony smiled gratefully in return and looked at the Ripper. If he was guessing right, she had every reason to want to forget about this episode, just like he did. The succubus had turned into Ted when it was facing her, hadn’t it? The implication seemed obvious, though no one appeared eager to talk about it. Certainly not given the Ripper’s current mood. “I don’t care enough to bother telling anyone about it,” she said eventually. “Let’s go. This place is getting on my nerves. The sooner we leave, the better.”


	15. There's just something about you that pisses me off

“I could use a drink, too,” Walden grumbled. He opened all the kitchenette cabinets one by one, but they were desperately lacking alcohol.

When he turned around, he noticed that Malkoran was seated on the couch, his hands in front of him with the fingers intertwined, head slightly bowed, eyes closed. “We should work on the list while the ladies are out,” the Wolf said quietly. “If we figure out how we’re going to find everything we need, it may make up for your outburst.”

Merlin, he had some nerve! Was he seriously blaming Walden for what had just happened? If his marriage suffered from this, Malkoran was entirely at fault.

Evey had denied any romantic relationship between the two of them so forcefully and so many times that Walden had nearly come to believe her, despite the way they behaved around each other. And here Malkoran had just admitted that… They _had_ considered it. There _was_ something. And Walden wasn’t crazy: Evey _did_ occasionally ogle Mal. And vice versa.

 _No_ , he berated himself. _Don’t get sucked into his mind games. He’s using your own jealousy against you. Evey would never do that. She never looks at other men. It’s your sick brain that would have you believe that. Mal is merely trying to trick you, to show Evey how paranoid you are. He wants to break us apart so he can have her all for himself._

_You have to trust in your wife._

Mal looked up at him. “You smell of outrage and…well, simple rage,” he noted.

_Yeah, no kidding, arsehole. If you weren’t practically invincible, I would have punched you thrice by now._

“Slightly homicidal, too,” Mal went on. “I do not understand. You wanted the truth and I gave it to you. Can’t you accept it like a man and move on? That’s all Evangeline wants, I’m sure.”

“That wasn’t the truth,” Walden said through clenched jaws. “That was wishful thinking. Evey doesn’t want to fuck you, Mal, whatever fanciful scenarios you make up when you’re alone in bed. You misinterpret her attention for you. You’re too narcissistic to understand that she doesn’t fancy you; she _pities_ you.” Malkoran scowled at that. “You’re her pet project. She’s trying to fix you, because the actual truth is that she thinks you’re broken. She hopes she can make you a better person.” He sighed. “I’m afraid she’s too stubborn to realise that it’s impossible, probably because you like to pretend to be human, when you’re around her. But we know better, don’t we?” He started pacing. “You’re a selfish bastard. You lied about being chaste because you knew she would find it ridiculously endearing and that she’d help you reunite with the Bloodmother. You lied about the reason you went to Kunlun so she wouldn’t think that you were a bloodthirsty monster, worse even than Greyback.”

Mal stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. “What on Earth are you talking about? I told you, I _have_ been abstinent. Would any man lie about such a thing, no matter the potential gain?”

 _You’re not a man. You’re barely human._ “You didn’t leave because you were tired of the endless violence. You left because you were afraid that you would lose yourself to the beast inside. You participated in the Great War, didn’t you?” he continued before Mal could speak. “More than participated. I did my research, you see, because unlike Evey, I never trusted you. You were right there in the trenches. _Der stille Tod_ , the Silent Death, the Germans called you, but the more superstitious French soldiers went for a more straightforward term, didn’t they? _Le loup-garou des tranchées_. And you didn’t even bother to pick a side. You just killed everyone who had the misfortune of being near you, no matter their uniform.”

Mal remained silent for a moment before replying. “What makes you think that was me?”

Walden shrugged. “Had to be a Wolf, considering that there are several reports of a large animal devouring soldiers on nights when the moon wasn’t full, and sometimes even in broad daylight. Rasputin hadn’t been turned yet. Greyback had just been born. And the others are more discreet than that, aren’t they? Only _you_ would feel entitled to do something like that in all impunity. I guess I had confirmation when Evey told me about the carnage in front of the Flamel house. You have very little control over yourself, don’t you? Anything can send you over the edge and into berserk mode.”

Surprisingly, Malkoran chuckled. It was dry and humourless. “You are an intelligent man, Walden, and I appreciate that you did some research, but I’m afraid you’re wrong. I did not participate in the War for the thrill of it – I stepped in to stop the Wolf who was _actually_ responsible for that spree of lustful violence.”

“Oh, really?” Walden scoffed. How heroic of him. “Who was it, then?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, if there’s _another_ murderous psycho in your pack, I’d like to know about it.” Seriously, were _all_ Wolves rabid? They were even worse than the Ancients’ Infernal Trio.

“I assure you, he’s being monitored. Nothing like that will ever happen again. And I wouldn’t use the term ‘psycho’ so loosely, were I you. He has legitimate mental issues. He’s been diagnosed by a professional, but Muggle medicine has no effect on Wolves and even the strongest magical remedies only have faint, short-lasting effects. The influence of the moon does occasionally exacerbate the symptoms of his malady, and I believe that the blood moon of July 1917 triggered this particular episode. He was forced to turn and experienced difficulties returning to human form, until I found him, eight days later.”

“Okay…” Walden said slowly. Needless to say, he had not expected that. He had been persuaded that Mal was the culprit. “But seriously, which one was it?”

Evey had told him the names of every Wolf she knew or had heard of, but she had missed a couple. Walden quickly counted them in his head, in chronological order: _Mal, Ramesses, Hannibal Barca, Attila the Hun, Erik the Red, William I, Hernán Cortés, Ivan the Terrible, Miyamoto Musashi, Blackbeard, Rasputin and Greyback_.

Only twelve. Two were missing.

Oh, and there was Draco Malfoy, of course, but it was irrelevant right then.

“I will tell you,” Mal said reluctantly, “ _in confidence_ , but only so you will quit pestering me about that unfortunate episode. Is that agreeable?” Walden nodded. “The Wolf responsible was Gilles Garnier, though his name is of little importance. I doubt that you will find any mention of him in your history books. He was always a troubled man, and his turbulent life led him to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He was bewitched and later possessed by a demon, which was…disposed of by Hernán. He took the lad under his wing and he was the one who turned him into a Wolf eventually, with my blessing.”

“Oh, that’s why they call Cortés Demonslayer!” Walden exclaimed. His quarrel with Mal was temporarily forgotten. Merlin, he really was a nerd.

“Indeed. After he was turned, Hernán chose a different career path, as is common, and became a demon hunter for a few years, until he met Gilles. That event changed him deeply. Well, it changed both of them.”

Walden was silent for a moment but he quickly remembered that he was pissed off, and why. “If you ever so much as _try_ to take my wife away from me-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mal interrupted him. “As if she would let me.”

Yeah, that was a good point.

“You should focus more on keeping her happy than on worrying about me,” the Wolf advised him. “Nothing is ever going to happen between us.” There was a pause, then he went on in a murmur. “Well, unless you die and Elle still refuses to see sense, perhaps.”

Had he forgotten that Walden had a very keen sense of hearing, or was he being purposefully aggravating? “If you’re lonely, why don’t you go after Estelle? You two would make a great couple. You’re both monsters.”

Malkoran spoke sharply. “I told you, I wasn’t responsible for the carnage in the trenches-”

“Mate, Evey told me everything she knows about your early life, before you attempted to summon the gods. The sex slaves? The Horsemen of the Apocalypse gig? I always thought that was pure myth, but the stories _are_ based on you and the Bloodmother and the other two barbarians you betrayed, aren’t they?” He shrugged. “Maybe V’s right. Maybe you’ve evolved somewhat. But that doesn’t erase any of the crimes you’ve committed. You’re still quite an awful person, you do realise that, yes? And the fact that you abandoned your pack and let evil run rampant on Earth is not playing in your favour, either.” There was the truth for him. Could _he_ take it?

“Yes,” Mal said quietly. “You are correct. I do try to be on my best behaviour around Evangeline, whenever possible, but it doesn’t change what I’ve done, or who I am, deep down. I won’t say that I regret it all; that would be a lie. I do regret leaving my cubs to fend for themselves in these troubled times, however, and I intend to make amends in whatever way I can. Beginning with this endeavour of yours.” He gestured toward the ingredients list. “Shall we get to work, before the ladies return?”

* * *

“Here, this round’s on me,” Estelle said as she placed a vodka martini in front of Evey. It was hardly Evey’s preferred alcoholic drink, but it would do. She drained a third of the glass in one gulp and nearly choked on it. Gods, it was dry.

They weren’t at the jazz club that Evey had visited the other day; according to Estelle, this new place was a clandestine pub where many of the merchants of the Shadow Market liked to meet up and seal shady deals. Some of the patrons were not entirely human, Evey noted, though she did her best not to stare. She didn’t want any trouble.

Estelle explained that she was going to talk to several people later and attempt to secure some of the rarer ingredients they needed. First, however, she insisted on pestering Evey with personal questions. This impromptu girls’ night out had been a dire mistake. “What happened? Did you cheat on your husband with the pretty boy? Or did he cheat on you with him, perhaps?”

Evey snorted. She wished it were as simple as that. And as entertaining as that last suggestion. “I have no idea what happened. I left the room for a few minutes and when I returned Walden was looking ready to murder M…” She cut off and cleared her throat. “Ready to murder Adam.” She took another sip of her drink, grimacing. She would need at least two pints to wash this down afterwards.

“How long have you two been married?”

Evey frowned at the abrupt change of topic. “Almost two years. Why?”

“Why indeed?” Estelle mused. “Why would you get married so young? And to a man so much older than yourself. And a vampire, at that. I mean, I can see the appeal, but…” She shrugged. “I never understood marriage. Why would you settle with one person for the rest of your life? It makes no sense to me. I need diversity. I need my freedom.”

Evey struggled to come up with something intelligent to say, to defend her choice to marry the man she loved, despite her youth, despite the age difference, but she shouldn’t have bothered. “What’s Adam’s deal, then?” Estelle asked.

“What do you mean?”

Estelle rolled her eyes. “Is he married? Does he have children? Any baggage a potentially interested lady would need to know about?”

Evey glowered at her indignantly. “If you were interested in Adam, why did you spend every single moment since our arrival flirting with my husband?”

“I was just curious to see how he would react,” she replied casually. “So…Adam?”

“He’s not available,” Evey muttered.

“ _Merde_.” That was one of the few French words that Evey could actually translate: _shit_. “Who’s the lucky…person?”

“She lives on the other side of the world. They have a…complicated relationship.”

“Then he is technically available at the moment, is he not?” Estelle said. “Didn’t see any wedding band.”

Yeah, because wedding bands had not yet been invented, when these two were young. Or weddings, for that matter. Not in their present form, anyway. “It’s complicated,” Evey repeated. She felt very uncomfortable discussing this with Estelle. She didn’t think that Malkoran would be interested in her, but she was unwilling to take that chance. If Estelle became immortal…

Ugh. She’d almost forgotten about that. How many young women had Estelle murdered? How many people in total? The house on Dante Street was a tomb. There had been two dead would-be thieves when they’d arrived and quite a bit of scattered ashes in the basement. This was nearly seven years after Nicolas Flamel and his wife had died; how many more had sneaked inside the house before that, hoping to find Flamel’s notes on the Philosopher’s Stone and other potentially valuable research? Estelle was a cold-blooded mass murderer; Evey didn’t want her to steal Malkoran from the Bloodmother. He was so close to making up with her, after all this time…

“Well, I do like a challenge,” Estelle said.

“Don’t you dare consider my husband a challenge,” Evey warned her.

Estelle gestured dismissively. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He made it very clear from the beginning that he loves you. I just kept messing around because it obviously bothers you,” she added with a wicked grin. “It’s funny, because you’re both crazy about each other, but you’re so fucking insecure, it’s maddening. I don’t know how you make it work.”

“That’s none of your business. And don’t chase Adam. Believe me, you don’t want to do that.” The Bloodmother probably ate the likes of Estelle every morning for breakfast.

“You don’t want me to do that,” Estelle corrected her. “That’s a totally different thing. But why? Do you like him?”

“He’s my friend,” Evey said curtly.

“Your very hot friend. Honestly, it’s no wonder that your husband is so paranoid, if that’s the sort of company you like to keep. You’re one of those women who don’t like to hang out with other women, aren’t you? Most of your friends are men. That must be driving Walden crazy.”

Evey didn’t deign to answer. Estelle was wrong; how could Walden have a problem with that? It wasn’t like she had dozens of hot male friends. Tony, Malkoran and Ted. That was it. Tony was her brother-in-law, Mal was in love with an ethereally beautiful woman his own age, and Ted was more interested in adventures than he was in relationships (his own words). Estelle did have a point, though: Evey wasn’t great at befriending women. She considered Alice and Gorgo her friends, but they weren’t exactly close, not nearly as close as she was to Tony, for example.

“Especially since you’re constantly flirting with them,” Estelle added.

Evey nearly knocked her glass over in shock. “What?!”

“Oh, come on. I’ve seen how you behave around Adam. Why do you think I asked if you were sleeping with him?”

Evey stared at her in puzzlement. “I don’t flirt with him. I don’t flirt with anyone! I don’t even know _how_ to flirt!”

Estelle shook her head. “You don’t need to play coy with me, girl. You laugh at his jokes. You touch him a lot more than is strictly necessary. You talk to him as easily as you talk to your husband and you’re always smiling at him.”

“How is that flirting?” Evey scoffed. “I act like that around everyone. And I do _not_ touch Adam that much. Hell, I don’t touch him at all, why would you even say that?”

“A pat on the arm here, a playful poke in the ribs there… Men are incredibly sensitive to that sort of things. They’re suggestible. Any man would interpret that as flirting, girl. Your husband certainly sees it that way and, from the looks Adam sometimes gives you, I bet he does, as well.”

“You’re insane,” Evey stated. “Even if _some_ men might interpret that as flirting, it’s not intended as such, so it doesn’t count. And I’m sure Walden knows better. So does Adam. And he doesn’t look at me like that, you’re imagining things.” Seriously, how many vodka martinis had she had? Evey glanced at Estelle’s glass, but it was still full. Evey downed the remains of her own. “Besides, there’s nothing to look at,” she went on in a low voice. Evey was short. She didn’t have any appealing curves. Her hair was a bird’s nest. Her eyes were a dull hazel. She dressed like a tomboy most of the time. Estelle, on the other hand, looked like a top model in a trendy fashion magazine.

Estelle smirked. “Believe me, _chérie_ , I’ve seen enough gawking men in my years to recognise one instantly. And you shouldn’t sell yourself short. Men feel protective of tiny women; they find them _adorable_.” She said the last word in French, but Evey assumed that it had the same meaning in English. “Your hair is glorious. You have a killer smile, the sort that will make any man melt, especially if he’s the one you’re smiling at.”

“But Adam’s in love with someone else,” Evey insisted.

That caused an actual bout of laughter. “How is that relevant? Men will always look at attractive women, even happily married men. That’s a fact of life, darling. Besides, you can thoroughly peruse the menu without ordering from it, as Pernelle was so fond of saying,” she added with a mischievous smile.

Evey wanted to say that she was five thousand years younger than Mal, give or take a century, but she couldn’t. Estelle would probably tell her that it was irrelevant, in any case. She eyed her empty glass with a surly air. “I need more vodka,” she told the bartender. He seemed to understand English. “Hold the vermouth.”

“Seriously now – what is Adam’s _real_ deal?” Estelle asked as the bartender refilled Evey’s drink with pure vodka.

Evey blinked at the nonsensical question. “I already told you-”

“ _What_ is he?” Estelle asked more bluntly. “Not a vampire, clearly, and he didn’t turn into a werewolf at the full moon…” Well, he had, albeit briefly. Thankfully, all undesirable witnesses were dead. “Some sort of incubus, perhaps? A shapeshifter? He really seems too gorgeous to be true.”

Technically, he was a shapeshifter. Among other things. “I don’t… I have no idea what you mean,” Evey stammered. Gods, she was a lousy liar. The booze wasn’t helping, but she downed the vodka regardless and gestured for the bartender to refill the glass. She couldn’t stay drunk for long, due to her Wolfcient metabolism, but she could get utterly shitfaced for a short period of time, at least.

“Ah, come on. I’m no fool. I can tell that he’s no ordinary man. I’ve told you my darkest secret, girl. You owe me this.”

“Gods, you really are something,” Evey said. “I don’t _owe_ you anything. This is all you need to know: Adam is perfectly normal. We all are.”

“Why do you insist on calling him Adam when you address me, when you’re so careless with the name ‘Malkoran’ when you think I’m not listening? What origin is that name, anyway? I’ve never heard it. And why do you use made-up names, if you’re truly trying to save a life? Why all the secrecy?”

The secrecy was mainly in case they failed, in truth. Harry had gone through enough plights; it wouldn’t do to get his hopes up only to announce that Sirius was irretrievable and dead for good. Or that he couldn’t be fully healed, even if he did return from Pandemonium alive. That was none of Estelle’s business, however. “Malkoran is…his middle name. It’s…” Judging by Estelle’s face, she’d already guessed that Evey was lying, but so what? It was her fault for being so bloody nosy. “Estonian,” she went on, using a random nationality. “Anyway, if that’s how you behave before you even finish your first glass, I don’t want to be around you when you’re drunk,” Evey said firmly. She one-shot her second vodka, placed a liberal amount of _f_ _rancs_ on the bar and stood up. She didn’t want to owe Estelle anything, not even a drink. “I’m going back to the bookstore. I need to untangle this situation so we can start working on the cure. I’m sure it was nothing, anyway. Walden was probably overreacting. I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she told Estelle as she headed for the exit.

When she returned to the basement, Walden and Malkoran were both seated at the table. They were apparently discussing the ingredients; Walden was taking notes while Mal looked up things in one of Estelle’s books about advanced potion making. Evey sighed in relief before she joined them. “Everything okay here?”

“We’ve made good progress,” Walden replied. He sounded odd, but Evey couldn’t quite define his tone. “We know where to find everything we need. Now we just need to contact a few Wolves and Hades, then retrieve the ingredients. I made a to-do list.” He showed her a piece of parchment. He had a very elegant handwriting.

  * _Purchase "basic" ingredients and utensils at Shadow Market (Mal + Estelle)_
  * _Enter Duat with Ramesses and obtain heart_
  * _Enter Valhalla with Erik the Red, get mead (plus Valkyrie feather for Estelle?) and enquire about Yggdrasil sap_
  * _Enter Underworld and retrieve Styx water_
  * _Ask Darya about the thylacine_
  * _Ask Hunac Ceel about the Chaca tree_
  * _Obtain eyelash from Barty Crouch, Jr._
  * _Summon Cherufe demon (preferably at home for space)_



Evey smiled with renewed optimism. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound quite so daunting. This is a very short list, all things considered. Do we have to do it in this order?”

“Not necessarily,” Walden said. “We’ll have to gather pretty much everything before we can get started on the cure, so it doesn’t matter where we begin.”

“It’ll depend on which Wolf is available when, then. I have to ask, though,” Evey went on, “who the hell is…Hunac Ceel?” She assumed that he was a Wolf, but she didn’t even know how to pronounce his name.

“He’s William’s progeny and Hernán’s maker. He was a Mayan warrior in his human life,” Malkoran explained. “And the origin of the Chaca tree is a Mayan myth. But Hunac will tell it better than I could, I’m sure.”

“Alright.” She re-read the list once more, but it seemed pretty straightforward. “I’ll take care of the emails as soon as the internet café opens.” In a few hours, she guessed. It was nearly 5 AM; almost time for Walden to go to sleep. “As soon as we have the Wolves’ replies, we’ll plan our little jaunts to the various realms of the dead. Mal, are you still going with Estelle to the Shadow Market tomorrow night?” Well, technically, it was tonight, since it was almost dawn already. He nodded. “Perfect! We’re doing great, guys. Thanks for doing this.” She kissed Walden’s cheek but, mindful of Estelle’s words, she didn’t touch Mal in any way, didn't smile at him and even avoided his gaze. She could almost _feel_ him wonder what was going on, what he’d done wrong. “Once we’ve gotten everything we need from the Shadow Market, I propose that we return home. With Estelle, if necessary,” she said reluctantly, “but I’d rather work from the comfort of my own house. This basement is very practical for vampires, I’ll admit, but I miss the woods. And I miss my dog.” Sloan had agreed to pet-sit for them while they were gone, but Evey didn’t like to leave Nana for too long. Or Caraid, for that matter.

Walden put his arm around her waist and pulled her in his lap. “We’ll do it however you want it done, love.” Mm. That was an odd thing to say. He was probably trying to make up for his outburst. Not that he needed to; Evey had already forgotten about it. She was glad that everyone seemed to be getting along now. They couldn’t afford to be distracted by petty squabbles. “Do we have enough French money to cover all of our expenses at the market? Or are we supposed to pay in Galleons? Do the French even use Galleons?”

Walden chuckled. “They do. It’s not universal, but most European countries agreed on a common currency a long time ago.”

“Smart,” Evey said approvingly. The world would be an easier (and more welcoming) place to live in if every single country in the world adopted the same currency, in her opinion. She couldn’t make sense of these ridiculous French _francs_. She’d probably left either way too little or way too much money for the bartender, earlier.

“We have enough cash for the more basic ingredients,” Walden went on, “but Estelle will use enchanted checks to purchase everything else, so that the merchants know we’re good for the money we pledge.”

“Brilliant. We’re all set, then,” she said with some well-earned satisfaction. “I hope that the others are doing as well as we are.” She hoped that they were alive and hale, too, but she didn’t say it out loud for fear of jinxing it. She trusted them – Tony and Ted unconditionally, the Ripper to a lesser extent. She was down-to-earth and resourceful, if nothing else. If anyone could accomplish this delicate mission and survive a return trip to Pandemonium, it was this strange, mismatched team that Evey had assembled.


	16. All that I am

They walked.

Tony’s feet couldn’t get sore, and he never tired, but it soon became disheartening. The road seemed to lead nowhere. All around them, the world was grey. There was nothing but the road, and them on it.

As usual, the Ripper had taken the lead and was several meters ahead of them, but Tony and Ted advanced side by side. “Are we there yet?” Ted asked lightly.

Tony chuckled in spite of their predicament, in spite of everything that had happened. “How long have we been on this road? Days? Decades? It feels like decades.”

“A few hours,” Ted guessed. “It’s the scenery, or the absence of it, that makes it feel like much longer. There’s nothing to distract our brains from the endless walking. That’s why I figured we should talk. It’ll help pass the time.”

Tony nodded. It was a sensible idea, though certain topics ought not to be broached. “What happened back there, exactly?” One moment he’d been chased by Ted in rabid Wolf form, and the next he’d found himself in an alley, with the Ripper about to…well, rip a woman apart. And then…the lake. His companions had joined him there, somehow escaping their own disturbing realities. “No offence, but you completely lost your shit, mate. It was terrifying.”

“Aw, sorry about that.” He sounded like he meant it. “When the moon is full, we can resist the change, if we want or need to, for whatever reason, but it’s difficult. It takes a lot of self-control. Most Wolves learn to master this ability mere months after being turned, but…” He trailed off with a shrug. “A blood moon, though? Well, you saw what happened to Evey and me last year, back in the real world. There were no casualties except for a few unfortunate animals, but it’s impossible to remain entirely lucid. In the succubus’s realm, it was even worse. I blacked out. I don’t remember anything at all. I regained consciousness some time later, a dagger stuck in my shoulder, surrounded by gutted rabbits and squirrels.”

“Ha. Jack stabbed you. Typical.”

Ted chortled. “Abaddon was right. She _is_ feisty.” As he said that, he quickly glanced at their teammate, as if he’d suddenly remembered that she could hear him, no matter how far ahead of them she was. She didn’t turn around, mercifully. Either she was ignoring them, or she was lost in her own thoughts.

“But how did she escape her own, um, vision? When I was transported to the lake, she was about to kill that woman in the alley.”

“No idea. She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t _dare_ ask.”

The Wolf grinned. “Ah, well, we had more pressing matters to attend to. Like, you know, rescuing you.” He slapped Tony’s back, hard enough to rattle his teeth.

“How did you find me, then?”

“She knew where to find you,” he replied, inclining his head toward the Ripper. He anticipated Tony’s next question. “I don’t know _how_. She just did. She removed her dagger from my shoulder, and a moment later we were on the bank of a lake, and you were…” He cut off, avoiding Tony’s gaze.

“Snogging a demon,” the Ripper supplied helpfully. She was still striding purposefully ahead, her back to them, but Tony could almost hear the cruel smile in her voice.

Right. _Now_ she decided to participate in the conversation. “Yes, thank you, I remember that part quite vividly,” Tony grumbled.

“Yeah, pretty sure _that_ image is imprinted in everyone's memories.” Ted seemed to hesitate. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Alright, fair enough.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Tony blamed the eerie absence of sound and landscape for the question he eventually felt compelled to ask. “But seriously… Do _you_ believe in soul mates?”

“I believe in what I see,” the Wolf replied after a moment of thoughtful consideration. “Like…you know, that saintly bloke.”

“Saint Thomas,” Tony said. His mother, though not profoundly religious, used to drag him to mass every Sunday, before she started working for the Macnairs. Tony still had vague memories of the stodgy sermons.

“That’s the one. My point is, given my personal experience, I have no reason to believe in the concept,” Ted went on. “I’ve had quite a few loving relationships over the centuries, but none of my companions even come close to qualify as my ‘soul mate’.” He used air quotes to frame the term. “Lots of good times and fun adventures, and when the time came, terminating the relationship was usually heart-breaking for me, but I remember them fondly – not with a crushing sense of loss and despair, or as if a part of me had been torn away. It’s just…regular grief over something good that came to an inevitable end. To be frank, I’ve never known anyone to have that sort of…fantasy relationship that you only see in YA books or cheesy rom-coms.”

Tony took this under consideration. He would love to agree, but… “What about Walden and Evey? If anyone in real life might qualify for a ‘Soul Mate Couple Of The Year’ award, it’s them, don’t you think?”

“Well, they’re…” Ted hesitated. “They’re cute together, alright. They make a good team. They argue a lot, though,” he remarked. “All couples have their disagreements, obviously, but…” He shook his head. “Never mind that. But V told me what the Questing Beast predicted about you,” he confessed.

“ _You will be loved by many, but you will never return the feeling, not until your one true love is made available to you, centuries from now_ ,” Tony recited, mimicking the Questing Beast’s pompous accent. “ _In the meantime, you shall be miserable, and lonely no matter the company you keep. Your many accomplishments will never fulfil the void within you. You will oft long for death, and it shall ever remain out of your reach. Oh, quite dreadful shall be the years to come, Woeful One._ ” Tony had it committed to memory, word for word. Sometimes he wished he could Obliviate it out of his head. “You think that Evey’s my ‘one true love’?” Truth be told, he’d considered the possibility. When Ted didn’t reply, Tony decided to argue against it. “’One true love’: that’s the term the Beast used. It didn’t say ‘soul mate’.”

“It’s the same bloody thing!” the Ripper called over her shoulder. Why did she sound so annoyed? This had nothing to do with her. They weren’t forcing her to eavesdrop on this delicate exchange.

Tony glared at her back, but she made no further comment. “I assumed…well, I _hoped_ it meant I’d meet someone in the future. I thought ‘made available to you’ meant that The One would be _born_ centuries later, and that we’d find each other then.” That was the preferable option, in his opinion. Preferable by far.

“But if it’s Evey, it could mean that she’ll be made available to you when your brother dies,” Ted said quietly. “As Miss Ripper implied earlier.”

“That’s… You do hear how horrible that sounds, right? It’s like saying that I’m waiting for my brother to die so I can-”

“Fuck his wife in all impunity,” the Ripper finished for him. Tony noticed that she’d slowed her pace. She was barely two metres ahead of them now.

Tony wanted to get angry at that. He really did, but despite the Ripper’s bluntness, she wasn’t far off the mark. “That’s a distasteful way to put it, but it’s not inaccurate, I guess,” he muttered.

“Evey should have picked you over him to begin with,” the Ripper went on, ignoring him. “What does she see in him? He’s just a scarred, useless mong-”

“You have _got_ to stop using that word,” Tony said icily. The Ripper froze in her tracks and they easily caught up to her. They paused beside her. She was rather tall, for a woman, but Tony still towered over her. Her eyes glinted like fresh demon ichor on the blade of her dagger, but he would not let himself be intimated, not this time. “His name is Walden. It’s not that complicated. Same number of syllables.” He briefly wondered if she was going to stab him for speaking to her like that – for _daring_ to speak to her like that – but realised he didn’t care. “We’re done discussing this. I don’t want to hear her name again until we get the hell out of here. And when we do, I’m leaving Scotland forever,” he added under his breath as he resumed walking toward the indiscernible horizon.

* * *

“There it is!” the Ripper exclaimed, what felt like centuries later. She’d taken the lead again at some point, Tony and Ted once more trudging after her, but they’d walked in silence, this time. “I found the bloody portal!”

Ted sighed in relief. “About time.” They jogged to catch up to her.

The portal was horizontal, on ground level. It seemed perfectly innocuous, a pure white, except…

“It’s oval-shaped,” Tony remarked uneasily.

The others scowled at him. “So?” the Ripper barked.

“Asmo…um, Magnus’s father told us to avoid oval portals, didn’t he? He said they were malfunctioning.”

The Ripper rolled her eyes. “He’s a demon. Why should we believe him?”

That was rich, coming from her. If she was willing to believe the succubus’s nonsense about soul mates, she ought to heed Asmodeus’s warning, as well.

The Ripper put her hands on her hips, sensing his reluctance. “Look, if you want to keep walking forever along the most boring road in the universe, you be my guest, fledgling, but _I_ am jumping through that thing. I’d rather explode in a shower of flesh and bone than walk for another corpse.” Apparently, she’d taken to using local measurement units.

Ted glanced at them both in turn, but eventually nodded. “Yeah, sorry, fledgling, but I’m with her.”

“Will everyone _please_ stop calling me that?” Tony said testily. “I’m forty-one, for Merlin’s sake.”

“Hey, it’s your turn,” the Ripper said. “I bore it for over a century. I’m entitled to call you fledgling to my dead heart’s content.”

Tony huffed in annoyance, but made no comment. He glared at the portal instead. Malfunctioning how? Would it merely take them somewhere unexpected, or blast them to bits? Then again, they had no idea what to expect anyway, and being blasted to bits shouldn’t kill them. Emphasis on _shouldn’t_. “Fine,” he said eventually. He gave the Ripper a mocking bow. “Ladies first.”

She smirked. “Wimps last.” She jumped. Ted, who was chuckling at their exchange, dove right after her.

_Here we go again. Please, no Evey this time,_ Tony prayed to the only god he believed in, Hades. Well, he sort of _had_ to believe in him, didn’t he? He’d actually met the guy. In any case, knowing the snarky god, he was more likely following Evey’s adventures out in the mortal world. Such obvious favouritism was unseemly, but what was a vampire to do?

Tony closed his eyes and let himself fall backwards into the portal.

* * *

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Anton Dolohov was born and raised in Russia, because his mother couldn’t afford to travel to Scotland like she’d planned to do. They lived in poverty. When he turned 11, he received a visit from representatives of the Russian Ministry of Magic, who revealed to him that he was a wizard. He earned a scholarship to get into Durmstrang, where he discovered the Dark Arts and became fascinated with them. After he graduated, Anton travelled to England to meet the one who called himself Lord Voldemort, so that he could learn more about dark magic. He became a Death Eater and was arrested following Voldemort’s defeat in 1981. He died of an untreated pneumonia in Azkaban in 1986.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Tony chose to turn Walden into a vampire, despite the potentially disastrous consequences of such an act, despite the fact that he was secretly in love with his fiancée. He died with his maker, Jeanne, while attempting to arrest Fenrir Greyback at the Battle of the Astronomy Tower, in 1997.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Antonin Dolohov was born in Edinburgh in 1957, then raised in Glenfinnan, at Macnair manor, where his mother found work when Antonin was five. She died six years later, a week before he began studying at Hogwarts. Antonin was adopted by Mr and Mrs Macnair. He never served Voldemort, but joined the Order of the Phoenix instead, with his brother Walden. They were both killed by Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange in 1981, after being ambushed during a mission co-lead by the Prewett twins.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Anton Dolohov was born in Russia, and his mother died in childbirth. He lived in a dingy orphanage for six years, until his father, Mykew Gregorovitch, came to claim him. Anton was raised in poor conditions by an unloving father, but became a renowned wandmaker at a young age. He was married twice, and divorced twice, but he had no children. Suffering from severe depression, he hanged himself at age 42.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Antonin Dolohov was born in London. His mother married a wealthy businessman, and they had two more children. His stepfather despised him, and the sentiment intensified after the Ministry of Magic visited their home to tell Antonin that he belonged to the wizarding world. He studied at Hogwarts, and became an accomplished wandmaker after apprenticing for over a decade to the great Garrick Ollivander. He wasn’t personally involved in the wars against Voldemort. He perished in the year 2000, along with the rest of the world.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Tony chose to turn Walden into a vampire, despite the potentially disastrous consequences of such an act, despite the fact that he was secretly in love with his fiancée. When the Ancients discovered his crime, they had Walden and him executed by the unscrupulous Wolf known as Whitemane before they could rescue Evey from Greyback’s lair.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Anton Dolohov was born in Russia, and his mother was chronically ill and bedridden. He never made it into Durmstrang and spent most of his teenage years in juvie. At 18 he was imprisoned at Nurmengard, where he served a life sentence for three counts of murder. He died at age 36 of malnutrition and various untreated infections.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Antonin Dolohov was born in Paris in 1957. His mother found a stable position and made good money, which allowed Antonin to study at the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. He became a renowned wandmaker, after apprenticing to the great Marcel Laridot. He never married, and he perished in the year 2000, along with the rest of the world.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Tony never became a Death Eater. Walden and he joined the Order of the Phoenix during the First Wizarding War. They were awarded a second-class Order of Merlin for their acts of bravery during the Battle of Plymouth, where they saved the lives of fifty-two Muggles. In 1995, Tony resumed his work with the Order, after Voldemort’s “official” return. He met Evangeline Kane and fell desperately in love with her, but she soon became his sister-in-law. Tony died protecting her from the vicious werewolf Fenrir Greyback at the Battle of Hogwarts, in 1998.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Tony chose to turn Walden into a vampire, despite the potentially disastrous consequences of such an act, despite the fact that he was secretly in love with his fiancée. He was killed by Fenrir Greyback in 1997, in a vain attempt to avenge the death of his maker.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Tony was born in New York in 1957. His mother worked as a waitress. They were rather poor, but his childhood was happy enough. Tony attended the Ilvermony School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and became a renowned wandmaker, after apprenticing to the great Shikoba Wolfe. He never married, and he perished in the year 2000, along with the rest of the world.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Tony was born and raised in London, and lived in a world where his brother was never born, because Fergus Macnair was killed in the line of duty before he could father a child. Tony studied at Hogwarts and was recruited by Voldemort in 1977. He committed suicide in 1981 when he heard that the Dark Lord had been defeated, to avoid being arrested and incarcerated at Azkaban.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Jeanne never went to Azkaban, so Tony escaped with the rest of the Death Eaters in January 1996. Walden refused to serve Voldemort a second time; he was hunted down and murdered by Rodolphus Lestrange. Tony killed Lestrange in retribution, and was executed by Voldemort himself as a consequence.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Anton Gregorovitch was born in Russia, and raised by his mother and father, Irina and Mykew. His father had reluctantly married his mother after finding out that she was pregnant, but it was obvious that he hated every minute spent in their company. He was often violent. It was a relief for Anton when he was accepted at Durmstrang, but his mother suffered even more when she was left alone with Mykew. After Anton graduated and returned home, he got into a heated argument with his father regarding his mother’s bruises, and the argument degenerated into a fight. Anton accidentally killed his father, and was sentenced to thirty years of imprisonment at Nurmengard for involuntary manslaughter. His mother visited him every week without fail for seven years, until she died. Anton hanged himself in his cell after receiving news of her death.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Tony and his brother Walden reluctantly served Voldemort, prior to his first defeat, and then again after he returned. Evangeline Kane, a young member of the Order of the Phoenix, was captured by the Lestranges and brought to the headquarters. Having fraternised with her – and having both fallen in love with her – Walden and Tony planned to set her free, but only Walden and Evey made it out. Tony was caught and executed by Voldemort for facilitating their escape.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Jeanne turned Tony into an Ancient, but refused to let him return to his former life. Tony watched from afar as his brother joined the Order of the Phoenix and later got engaged to Evangeline Kane. He attended Walden’s funeral after his brother was murdered by Rodolphus Lestrange and promised himself that he would look after his fiancée, always from afar, but she was captured by Fenrir Greyback. Tony dedicated the rest of his life to searching for her, but the world ended before he could save her.

_Flicker flicker flicker_

Anton Gregorovitch was raised by his father Mykew. He suffered through a crappy childhood, but became a skilful wandmaker at a young age. He moved out of his father’s house soon after graduating from Durmstrang and travelled to America. He taught at Ilvermony for a few years, but was killed in a freak wandmaking accident at age 29.

_Flickerflickerflickerflickerflicker_

Tony didn’t turn Walden after Rodolphus Lestrange killed him, and regretted it for the rest of his life. He rescued Evey from Fenrir Greyback's lair, with the grudging assistance of a few Wolves, but she was devastated by her fiancé’s death and became obsessed with the idea of avenging him. When a party of Death Eaters crashed Bill and Fleur’s wedding in 1997, Evey seized her chance and murdered Lestrange. She was arrested by an Imperius-controlled Auror and sentenced to life in Azkaban. Before Tony could break her out, the world ended.

_Flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker flicker_

Tony/Antonin/Anton Dolohov/Gregorovitch lived and died a hundred thousand times in a hundred thousand different ways, and he fell in love with Evangeline Kane every time their paths crossed, but she never loved him back.

Not once.


	17. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic

“So, this is a…computer machine,” Malkoran said, eyes narrowed as he inspected the cumbersome piece of Muggle technology.

“’tis indeed,” Evangeline replied theatrically.

They were seated side by side at a desk inside the tiny _Café Orbital_ , two steaming mugs in front of them – black coffee for him, milky tea for Evangeline. They had been the establishment’s first clients on this cloudy August morning, but the place was slowly filling up with locals.

They both stared blankly at the computer screen for a moment, where the café’s bright red logo clashed against a blue background. “Is it…automated?” Mal asked eventually, wondering why Evangeline wasn’t doing anything.

“No, of course not, silly. You have to, um…” She hesitantly put her hand on the mysterious white object that rested on the table. “Gotta use the mouse to…” She moved the thing with exaggerated care. On the screen, a white arrowhead moved in the same direction, but nothing happened. “To, um, send the emails. Duh.”

“I see,” he said politely, though it was obvious by now that Evangeline was as clueless as he was. “Can you walk me through it step by step, so I’ll know how to do it by myself, next time?”

That was unkind. He could smell her embarrassment. Finally, after running the arrowhead wildly across the screen several times and frantically clicking on the logo, she turned to him, smiling abashedly. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve been out of Muggle society for over two years. We don’t have a computer at home, and my parents always promised to buy one but never did. I used to play some stupid trivia game on my grandpa’s ancient computer, but that was easy, all you had to do was click on the game icon and then validate the answers with Y.”

“Don’t feel bad. I’m sure that one of the employees can help us.” He stood and approached the waitress who’d brought their drinks, then asked her – in French – if she’d be so kind as to assist two mystified, hapless patrons. He smiled at her and she blushed, but she readily agreed to come to their rescue.

It was in fact fairly simple, once the procedure was explained in layman’s terms. The waitress – Samira – was incredibly patient. She connected them to The Internet, that mysterious, immaterial phenomenon that Mal couldn’t even begin to fathom. She helped them log into Mal’s email account – Hannibal had already set it up, thank the gods – and walked them through the process of sending an email. After that, Evangeline felt confident that they could attend to the task on their own. Mal winked at Samira as she rushed to respond to another client’s call and, once again, her cheeks heated up.

“Remind me to tip her generously,” Mal told Evangeline.

“Shhh,” she said, without looking up from the keyboard. She was ponderously entering Ramesses’s email address. “I need to concentrate. The layout is odd. I don’t remember the keys being in that order.”

Malkoran waited until she was done before speaking, lest she reprimand him again. “Ramesses is the most likely to be available on short notice,” he commented. “He’s a professor at Columbia University, but I think there are no courses at this time of year.”

“Uh-huh,” she said absent-mindedly. She was already crafting a message. “How much should I reveal in the email?”

“Well-” He chortled suddenly, which caused Evangeline to frown at him. To be fair, he wasn’t often caught laughing aloud, but she had begun the email with “Your Majesty”. “He will not believe that I wrote this message, if you call him that,” he explained. “And I do not think that it is the correct form of address for a pharaoh, in any case. It would be closer to ‘My Lord, My King, Godly Embodiment of the Sun’ or something equally fanciful.”

She rolled her eyes but deleted the first words and replaced them with “Dear Ramesses.”

“That is more appropriate, yes.” He thought for a moment. “Simply tell him that I require his assistance to enter the Duat, at his earliest convenience. We’ll explain the situation in detail when we meet.”

By the time Evangeline was satisfied with the wording of their first email, her tea had gone cold, while Mal had finished his coffee and obtained a refill. “How’s my spelling?” she asked. “If he’s a professor, I don’t want there to be any glaring mistake.”

“He is not going to grade your email, you know,” Mal noted. “Besides, he’ll assume that I wrote it.”

She squinted at him. “You have no idea if it’s correctly spelled or not, do you?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve read anything in English,” he confessed. “I’ve spent most of the past half-year watching television – at your insistence, may I remind you.” While it was undoubtedly one of the most unnecessary and absurd inventions of the 20th century – how much time and energy had humans wasted to create that grotesque device? – he had to admit that it was also the most entertaining one. Although, in truth, spelling had never been his forte, no matter the language – come to think of it, perhaps it was precisely because he was fluent in so many languages that it was difficult for him to spell properly in any given one. Or perhaps it was a flimsy excuse and he was simply terrible at it.

“Oh, have you watched that movie I recommended to you last month? _George of the Jungle_?” Evangeline asked excitedly.

Mm, he had indeed, but she would not like his review of it, he was sure. She thought it was hilarious. Mal, to say the least, did not. He coughed lightly. “Not yet. Shall we move on to the next?” He grabbed the address book and flipped through it. “Would you like to write to Hunac first, or Erik?”

“The Viking first,” she decided. “I can _not_ wait to visit Valhalla. It’s going to be legendary! Ugh, I wish Ted were here. We’d sing _Immigrant Song_ together and-”

“You misspelled Thorvaldsson in the email address,” he remarked, cutting short her day-dreaming. “There are two ‘S’.”

Evangeline glared at the screen, then focused on the keyboard to add the missing letter. “Couldn’t he just make his address erikthered@viking.com?” she muttered. “Would have been easier.”

“But less discreet.”

“He’s using his real name,” she said. “He’s not exactly trying to conceal his true identity.”

“It is bold of him,” Mal conceded, “but sometimes hiding in plain sight does prove efficient. Besides, considering his current employment, I daresay everyone assumes it’s a fake name he borrows for the occasion.”

“Why? What does he do for a living?”

“He is a cruise captain.” Evangeline eyed him flatly, perhaps wondering if he was joking. He was not. “In Scandinavia. He owns a large cruise ship and sails with tourists, in the spring and summer. I understand that it’s a popular attraction. There are Viking-themed soirées, a major highlight.”

Evangeline continued to regard him with suspicion. “What does he do in autumn and winter, then?”

Mal grinned. He had probably smiled more often in the short time he’d known Evangeline than in the millennium since Erik had become a Wolf. “Viking battles re-enactments. And there are several villages where people live as they did back in the days of their ancestors. Erik is some sort of activity leader there.”

“He does realise that humanity has moved forward since he was turned, right?” She was asking rhetorically, Mal knew. She smelled amused. “Does he even know how to check his emails?”

“Of course. People must book their tickets well in advance to hope to sail with him, and he receives many demands via the Internet. As I said, his cruises are quite popular.”

Evangeline shook her head, chuckling. “Can’t wait to meet him. I hope he’ll dress for the occasion, in full Viking attire.”

Mal did not doubt that he would. He sipped his coffee peacefully while Evangeline wrote the emails, occasionally pointing out an error (the few he caught) or suggesting a different phrasing. He was confident that Ramesses and Erik would comply to his request as soon as they could, but Hunac was another matter. Mal had no idea where he lived, or what he did to occupy his immortal days. What he did know was that Hunac didn’t hold his Alpha in the highest respect, and that he was one of the cubs who would have voted to let Greyback be, had there been a vote.

He was staring out the window, lost in thought, when Evangeline’s question pulled him back to reality. Quite violently. “What was the fight about?”

She asked it without looking at him, feigning an unwavering attention to the screen and task at hand. Her scent, however, told a different story. Curiosity, dampened by a hearty dose of caution and apprehension. She must have been dying to question him for some time and, distracted as Mal was, he had not noticed. Instead of replying, he gave her a meaningful look. He saw right away that her suspicion had been confirmed.

“Again?” she murmured. “How many times must I-“ She cut off, exasperation spiking in her scent.

“Walden claimed that I was…ogling you.”

Her scent changed again, but he couldn’t define it properly – too many emotions at once. There was a pause before she spoke. “Were you?”

“No. I was merely…looking at you. In your direction, that is. My eyes followed you as you went out of the room. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing.” He hesitated. “I did not mean to be rude.” Or to add fuel to the raging fire that was Walden’s jealousy, though he did not say it. There was no need; Evangeline was all too aware of its existence.

“And when you explained that, I assume that he didn’t believe a single word you said?” She smelled partly resigned, but mainly sad. She was gnawing her lower lip.

“I’m not even certain that he heard me.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what language I must use to make him understand…” Her voice was low; a human wouldn’t have made out the words. “Gods, I wish Tony were here. Maybe he could talk some sense into his brother.”

Mal couldn’t imagine how that would help, since Antonin was in love with her, but Edward had made him promise not to…what was the word he’d used? Ah, yes. Tattle. Apparently, it was a secret. A badly concealed one, but Evangeline and Walden seemed blithely unaware of it. “I thought it best to admit the whole truth, since we were already on the subject,” he went on. She might as well know everything that had been said. After all, it concerned her directly.

A surge of alarm in her scent. She scowled at him. “The truth about what?”

“Walden asked about the time he was in Middle-earth. He wanted to know if anything happened between us.”

Evangeline snorted inelegantly, as she always did. She was a lot of things, of _good_ things, but grace and elegance were not part of the Evangeline Macnair package. “He never dared ask me that outright, but I told him about ten thousand fucking times that there was _nothing_ between us.”

She was already swearing. That did not bode well for the rest of the conversation. “I felt obliged to confess that I did consider wooing you, for a brief period of time.” Her eyes widened in shock, and his words also impacted her scent and body language. “Before he returned, of course,” he added quickly. He had not expected such a strong reaction from her. “I discarded the idea the moment I found out that Walden had returned and I never contemplated it again,” he clarified when Evangeline ominously remained silent.

“You…” she sputtered. “You _what_?”

He was truly taken aback. “I thought you knew. Edward…”

“Oh, Ted and Alice both had fun playing matchmakers, thinking it would cheer me up, but I never actually… I mean, you and I?” she said slowly. “That’s just too…bizarre. Besides, I thought you loved the Bloodmother.”

He did love Elle, with all his aching heart; she was his soulmate, they belonged together. There was no doubt about that in his mind and, deep down, Elle knew it, too, he was certain of it. But he understood what Edward had said to him a few months ago, that Evangeline was a positive influence on him. She made him want to be better – not only for Elle, but for his pack, his (very few) friends, even humanity at large. She believed in him, had faith in him, and that meant as much to him as Elle’s forgiveness. Despite everything he had done, despite all of his flaws and failings, Evangeline somehow managed to see the good in him, the little that was there, and she held on to it _for_ him, so that it may never disappear entirely.

Some people held on to life after finding Jesus, but Evangeline was Mal’s own personal saviour.

He couldn’t very well tell her that, though; she would get a big head. Yea, she had her own flaws. “I do love Elle, but-”

Evangeline went on, speaking rapidly, with no sign that she’d heard him. “You said several times that she was the love of your life, your one and only. She’s so close to forgiving you…” Mal almost laughed again. He didn’t know this for a fact, and neither did Evangeline. “Surely you wouldn’t throw away all the progress you've made with her just for me.” Before Walden came back from Middle-earth, Mal was getting nowhere, unable to so much as _try_ to mend their relationship – Elle refused to talk about anything that didn’t directly pertain to Greyback – but he had no time to say so, because Evangeline was rambling on. “Well, you wouldn’t have _seriously_ done more than entertain the possibility…”

“I seriously did, albeit briefly,” he was finally allowed to say. “But our time alone was rather short. Walden returned, and soon things finally seemed to move forward with Elle…with your help. Though I haven’t heard from her in months,” he murmured.

She patted his arm, and recoiled a second later. Mal frowned. “What’s wrong? You have been behaving oddly, since you returned from your gals’ night out with Estelle. You smell guilty every time you so much as look at me.”

Evangeline kept her eyes on the computer screen. “Estelle claims that I flirt with you constantly, and that’s why Walden is so confused and angry and jealous.”

For a moment he was too shocked to speak. Then he said, “You flirt with me?”

“I _don’t_!” she exclaimed. “I really, really don’t. Or I don’t _mean_ to, anyway. But she claims that the way I act around you, smiling and laughing and…touching you, it might be misinterpreted. Also, she said you were gawking at me,” she added, still deliberately avoiding his gaze. “But you just said-”

“I do, sometimes,” he admitted. She flushed, like Samira had done half an hour ago. “Walden was not entirely wrong; it’s just that I was not doing it _that_ time. But you look at me that way sometimes, too. And Walden looks at Estelle, and I look at Estelle…” He shrugged. “It’s human nature.”

“Even _I_ look at Estelle that way,” Evey said with a wry smile. “She’s a fucking goddess. Her legs are _endless_.”

“They are,” Mal concurred readily. “That being said, she has a lousy personality, unlike you, which somewhat diminishes her physical attraction, in my opinion.”

Evey nodded. “I wish Walden would understand that. Not that I wouldn’t be attracted to you because of your lousy personality,” she hastened to clarify when Mal raised an eyebrow, “but that I’m attracted to _him_ because I think he’s the best man on Earth. And also because he’s gorgeous, but that’s only partly relevant.”

Walden was probably insecure about his looks, specifically his many, many scars, not unlike Mal, in fact. He did not say that out loud, though. Evangeline would not understand. She was often outspoken about how much she loved her husband’s scars – behind each one was a story of how brave he was, she said. The souvenir that Elle had left Mal told a different story, however, one of betrayal and heartbrokenness. It was hardly a trophy.

“Anyway,” Evangeline went on, “looking at attractive people does not necessarily mean daydreaming about having wild hot sex with them. I like to admire them because they’re aesthetically pleasing to the eyes. Like, I’d rather look at you than the cupboard beside which you stand, or your chipped coffee mug. Is that weird? Am I only looking for an excuse for my poor behaviour?”

“I do that, too,” Mal reassured her. “But I do also daydream about having wild hot sex with people, occasionally,” he added deadpan.

Evangeline chuckled. “Well, of course you do. But _I_ don’t need to do that, because I actually have sex on a regular basis.”

“Braggart.”

Now she was laughing, but she quickly regained her seriousness. “Just to be clear – you have no intention of ever…wooing me, do you?”

 _Not while your husband lives_ , Mal thought. _Not while there’s the faintest hope for Elle and myself to pick up where we left off._ “None at all,” he lied. “Unless you want me to.” He was positive that she would take it as a jest, and she did, giggling as she returned her attention to the computer screen. The last email was ready to be sent.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks. If you’re feeling lonely, though, I think that Estelle would be happy to provide…companionship,” she said with a wide grin as she pushed the _send_ button.

Mal smiled in return. He was perfectly aware of that. Estelle was not exactly prudish. If anyone was flirting, it was her, and it was fully intentional. She’d used Walden as a way to annoy Evangeline, Mal had quickly figured that out, probably because she felt threatened, in some unfathomable…womanly way. “Nah, I’m good, thanks,” he echoed, which caused her to giggle again.

“Be careful tonight at the Shadow Market, though,” she said more seriously. “She’s a crafty bitch, and she picks up on a lot more than we realise. She knows your real name, by the way. We ought to be more discreet when she’s around.”

“She can’t possibly know what I am, or what you are,” he said reasonably. The vast majority of the wizarding world was unaware of the existence of the Ancients, let alone that of the Wolves.

“Mm, wouldn’t put it past her to figure it out somehow. Remember, her dear old adoptive parents were nearly immortal themselves. They might have had suspicions and passed them on to her. And Pernelle summoned a lot of demons – who’s to say which ones she talked to? She could very well have summoned…You-Know-Who,” she whispered. There was a time when that vague term referred to the dark wizard known as Voldemort, Evangeline had explained to him back in the early days. Now, however, he didn’t need to ask whom she meant. Could a mere witch truly summon the Original Wolf? Would she be powerful enough to hold him in a pentagram and coerce him into revealing secrets that were better left unknown to mortal mankind? It seemed unlikely, but it was not impossible.

“Oh, look!” Evangeline exclaimed suddenly. “I think we received a new email.” She clicked on it eagerly.

 _From Prof. O. Hassan_ , _Anthropology Department_

 _Re: Your request_.

Evangeline read it aloud. “ _Alpha, I would be delighted to assist you in any way I can, but I’m afraid there must be an error in your previous message.”_ She groaned at that. _“Did you mean to say ‘travel to the Duat’, i.e. the Land of the Dead, according to mythology? Or was there, perhaps, a typing mistake? I know that you are quite new to computers. Either way, I will join you as soon as I can – I am currently available, and will be for another week. Shall we meet in London, as we did last year? Please do not hesitate to telephone me at my office (see the number at the end of this email), so that we can make plans forthwith.”_

“That was fast,” Evangeline commented. “But does he not believe that the Duat is real?” she asked, turning to Mal. “I mean, you were created by a demon while attempting to summon the gods, and you’re immortal werewolves. Next to that, a trip to the Land of the Dead sounds almost mundane.”

Mal idly swirled the remains of his coffee. “I think he does believe. He’s simply wondering why we want to go there, I’ll wager. I would call him, but I’m not sure that my British portable telephone can reach an American landline. From France.” As he’d feared, Evangeline was as clueless as he was. “Oh well. There is only one way to find out.” He took the object out of his pocket and dialled the number.

“If it doesn’t work, we can always use a regular phone at a hotel and pay the charges,” Evangeline suggested. “Or a pay phone. Like in the old days.”

Their definitions of “the old days” certainly varied. To Mal, it meant the BCE period of history. To her, it was the few decades that had preceded her birth, he assumed. He could not make the call, as he had guessed, so he troubled Samira one last time to enquire about a pay phone in the area. He handed her two hundred _francs_ before leaving the café. She certainly deserved it, and he didn’t know what else to do with all the money Hannibal had given him upon his return to society, anyway. When he had asked the cub how much money he could withdraw with his bank card, the answer had been simple: _as much as you need, Alpha_. Hannibal had looked almost surprised that he had to ask, as though the wealth of the pack was a well-established fact. Before he’d retired, Malkoran was under the assumption that every Wolf had his individual way of making and saving money. He didn’t even know that there was such a thing as “pack money”. Clearly, Edward had not been aware of that, either.

Ten minutes later, Malkoran was on the phone with Ramesses. They skipped the formalities. “Yes, I did mean the Duat.”

“ _I see._ ” There was a pause on the other end of the receiver. “ _May I ask why you wish to enter that place? I will assist you regardless of the information you deem useful to provide, but I must admit, I am curious, Alpha._ ”

“We must acquire a very specific ingredient there, which we shall then use to brew an elixir. A life is at stake, old friend.”

“ _’We’?_ ”

It wasn’t like Ramesses to ask so many questions, but then again it was a strange request indeed. “You remember Mrs Macnair, who was…attacked by Damian.”

“ _Oh, the famous hybrid, yes, of course._ ”

“Her husband and she are trying to rescue a friend of theirs. It’s a long story, and I’ll be happy to tell it in full when you join us, but time is short. When can you meet with us?”

“Hades?” he heard Evangeline whisper. She was standing three feet away from him, eyes closed. “I don’t know if we can communicate like this – no reason for you to come up here in person, I don’t want to bother you – but does Ramesses need to fly here? Can’t you…teleport him to the Duat from where he is now, and return him to America afterwards?”

_I’m not a taxi driver, Kane, nor am I your personal chauffeur._

Mal was aware that Ramesses was still talking on the phone, but that voice chilled him to the bone. He turned around, looking for its owner, but there was no one in their immediate vicinity.

Evangeline snorted. “Well, you did offer to transport us wherever we needed to go…” She seemed to be talking to herself, though the few people who might have been looking at her would probably assume that she was talking to Mal.

“ _Alpha? Are you still there?_ ” This was Ramesses.

Mal shook his head to clear it. “Er, yes, sorry, we’re, um, trying to find another arrangement. I know that you dislike flying. Please give me a moment.” He added some coins in the pay phone, just to be sure.

Mal heard Hades sighing in his head. _I can get him to the Duat from where he is. No need to buy a plane ticket for Ra’s favourite – the Underworld cabbie will do the work._ Then, in a lower “voice”: _Persi was right, I need a real hobby._

“Have you tried knitting?” Evangeline suggested. She sounded amused. “I hear it’s quite relaxing.” Mal would never understand how she dared speak to a _god_ in this manner.

_I’ve tried everything you could possibly imagine. And I am an excellent knitter, I’ll have you know. My wife loves the scarves I’ve made for her._

“That’s adorable,” Evangeline said. She was still obviously amused, but she meant it. “But we need to set a time for our meeting in the Duat. Day after tomorrow at eleven in the evening?”

“Paris time?” Mal enquired. Evangeline nodded. “Ramesses?” The professor responded affirmatively. “Someone will pick you up at five in the afternoon, on the day after tomorrow, if that is convenient for you. You will be taken directly to the Duat, where we’ll be waiting for you.” It was convenient, Ramesses said. “Where will you be then?”

“ _In my office. I usually am, day or night_. _I do not sleep much._ ” The older Wolves rarely did. Mal slept a couple of hours per night – or day, as was the case now, thanks to Walden’s sleep schedule. It was not unusual for him not to sleep at all for two or three days in a row, though.

“Hades? Ok with you?” Evangeline asked the empty air in front of her.

 _Yes_ , came the grudging answer. _Okee dokee._


	18. Out of the nowhere and into the here

Tony – Antonin? Anton? Who _was_ he? – was lying on solid ground, and that was all he knew for certain.

His eyes were closed, or so he assumed. The world could simply have turned black. It wouldn’t be surprising.

Perhaps he was dead. _Again_. It would only be the thousandth time in about three seconds.

He’d thought this before, many times, since entering Pandemonium – if that was where he still was – but: What. The. _Fuck_.

He felt that this should be followed by a dozen interrogation marks, and twice as many exclamation ones, but he didn’t have the strength to conjure them, even in his mind. He’d never felt more exhausted, more depleted, in his entire life. (Lives?)

And he wasn’t supposed to feel exhausted. He knew that. He was an Ancient, wasn’t he? Or had that been another him? Another version of him? One who’d died in a gruesome way, or one who’d led a wretched existence? Or both?

A thousand lives, and he was never happy. Not _once_. He was _destined_ to be miserable. Destiny was a stone-cold bitch. Either that, or he had accumulated terrible karma. Yes. Maybe this was his punishment for killing Gideon Prewett, or for getting Jeanne killed, falling in love with his brother’s wife. Or both.

Not to mention that he’d completely missed his calling: to become a wandmaker. Magical engineer? Seriously? He’d always been passionate about wandmaking, and yet it had never occurred to him to make it his trade. He’d always considered it as more of a hobby. Then again, he’d never known who his father was. His mother had refused to tell him. If anything that had happened in these alternate versions of his life was true, Tony now understood why. Mykew Gregorovitch was not a good man, and would have been a lousy father, had Tony tried to reconnect with him. His mother had simply been protecting him.

Someone was crying nearby, he realised at some point during his mental breakdown. Someone else was whispering comforting words. Tony reluctantly opened his eyes, though at that moment he would have preferred to lie down forever and forget that he’d ever come into existence.

He hadn’t really expected Ted to be the one crying, but the only alternative he had come up with was a random lost soul just passing by. Or, basically, anyone but the Ripper.

And yet. She was sitting on the ground, hugging her knees, and bawling her eyes out, blood oozing down her cheeks and painting them crimson. Ted was tentatively patting her back, his expression a combination of horror and fear.

That was understandable.

Tony thought about pretending to still be unconscious – or whatever he’d been – but Ted caught sight of him. Tony wasn’t very good at reading lips, but the Wolf was obviously silently mouthing the word ‘HELP!’. In capital letters, with an exclamation mark.

Tony groaned as he rose to a sitting position. Nothing hurt physically, but his mind was cracked or fractured or entirely shattered. How did a person come back from something like this and just move on with their (current) life? For that matter, why wasn’t Ted a blubbering mess? Was he acting strong for the Ripper’s sake? Had he somehow evaded the chaotic, soul-destroying vortex of alternative existences?

Tony stood and walked over to them, then sat down again on the Ripper’s other side. “It’s alright, mate,” he murmured soothingly. “It’s over.” He didn’t point out that she was the one who’d insisted on taking the portal. This most certainly wasn’t an _I-told-you-so_ moment. Gingerly, he put a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t even try to stab him. Merlin, this was _bad_.

“Jack, I promise you, whatever you saw, it can’t be worse than what I experienced.” He paused, images flashing in his mind. Dying, over and over. Evey dying. Walden dying. Eternal unhappiness.

He did a double-take. What if it was another trick? What if the portal was perfectly fine, but a demon had somehow sent them those terrible visions to…well, turn them into useless wrecks? Maybe they’d landed in the Department of Relentless Despair. “It wasn’t real,” he went on. “It never happened, none of it.” He tightened his grip on her shoulder. “ _This_ is your life. Now, here.” Her sobs were progressively ebbing.

Ted gave Tony the thumbs-up and smiled encouragingly. _You’re doing great_ , his smile seemed to convey. _Keep up the good work, matey_.

“Now, I know you won’t want to discuss whatever happened, but-”

“I died _all the time_!” the Ripper wailed. “Every single bloody time! I was such a gutless coward, I never became _me_! I never even _tried_ to kill any of them,” she said despondently.

It was almost heart-wrenching, but she appeared to be upset because she’d never brutally murdered anyone, so Tony wasn’t sure how to proceed from there. He glanced at Ted for support. “Er… You know, the fledgling’s right. None of it was real. We know that’s not what happened. You’re still you: the most infamous and best-loved serial killer in history.” Best-loved? Yeah, he was overdoing it a bit, but whatever worked. It seemed to appease her.

“All my life I’ve wanted to kill someone,” she said softly. “As far as I can remember. It used to terrify my auntie, the things I would say as a child, before I understood that some thoughts were better kept private.” She wiped some blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. “I hated her, that old hag. Wish I’d killed her.” She smiled wickedly through her bloody tears. “And now I get to kill on an almost daily basis, and I get _paid_ for it. I can’t imagine my life any other way. By Lilith, I would be _miserable_.”

So, essentially, she’d had visions of tragic, unfulfilled lives, just like Tony. Except that they’d been tragic for different reasons. Well, she seemed to be feeling better now. Tony removed his hand from her shoulder before she realised it was there. He looked at Ted. “What about you? You didn’t see anything?”

“Sure I did. I always became a pirate. Sometimes I became a Wolf, sometimes not. Most of my mortal deaths were epic.” He shrugged. “All of the lives were at least satisfying. Some were almost as glorious as this one.”

“Seriously?” Tony said incredulously. “You were happy in all of them?” That was hardly fair!

“Yeah, happy enough.” He chuckled, and Tony noticed that his eyes briefly fell upon the Ripper. “I take pleasure in the small things in life. Rum. Adventures. Unconditional freedom. Women.”

The Ripper scowled. “In that order?”

Ted let out a booming laugh. “Not necessarily, no.”

“Well, lucky you,” Tony muttered.

Ted eyed him with obvious concern. “What happened to you, anyway? You looked like something the cat dragged in when you came to. Did you die a lot? Did you witness the end of the world, too?”

For a moment, Tony felt very stupid. How self-centred did one have to be to overlook something like that? He _had_ witnessed it; he’d merely chosen to focus his attention on the fact that he’d been unhappy before it happened. A countless number of lives, and in at least half of them (the ones where he survived past his 43th birthday), the world ended in the year 2000.

Haphazard images assailed his brain: fire, blood, death. A starless sky. Empty seas. Crumbling mountains. Disoriented people wailing and screaming, their cries almost drowned by gusty winds.

Nothing he could fixate on, nothing specific. Just…general pandemonium, but on their plane of existence. And then nothing at all, because he was dead. Because everyone was dead.

The Ripper was studying them both in turn. “You saw the end of the world?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah,” Ted said. “Like I said, I only died a mortal in some lives. In others I was immortal and lived until life itself ended.”

Tony edged forward to gaze at him. “Do you remember how it happened? I can’t; it’s all blurry in my mind.”

“Nope,” Ted said, “and it’s probably a good thing, given the little I do remember.” He stood up, stretching his back. He examined their surroundings, and Tony realised that he hadn’t even taken a look around. They were in a large cavern, illuminated by glowing, multi-coloured crystals. There was the sound of rushing water nearby. There were no demons that Tony could see.

“But it’s set to happen in 2000,” he insisted. “Two years from now.” Well, a year and a third, really. “Shouldn’t we be worried?”

“Eh,” Ted said. “I doubt it, fledgling. It was all just a weird dream, likely demon-made. I wouldn’t take it seriously. They’re just messing with us.”

“But-”

“Don’t we have enough on our plate, Tony?” Ted said, rather sharply, which was uncharacteristic of him. He may pretend that the swirling maelstrom of alternate existences had no effect on him, but his nerves were fraying nonetheless. “We have no clue where we are, and we’re no closer to finding your elusive friend than we were when we arrived. How about we deal with that first, _then_ worry about the apocalypse?”

Tony nodded sheepishly. “Sounds good.”

“You didn’t tell us about your multi-dimensional trip, fledgling,” the Ripper remarked as she rose to her feet. Her face looked terrifying, but Tony didn’t want to be the one who offered her a tissue. Reminding her that she’d been crying in front of them was probably a bad idea. Ted didn’t bother to ask, though. He simply produced a clean piece of cloth from one of his pockets, poured some water from his flask, and handed it to her. The Ripper accepted it without a word.

Tony cleared his throat. “Same as you, in essence. I led frustrating lives and was generally miserable.” _Killed myself a bunch of times. Became a dark wizard a few times, too, but only when Walden wasn’t around to look out for me. Had a horrible dad. Was never loved._

_Well, not by Evey, anyway._

The Ripper smirked. “Just as you are now, in other words.” Ted nudged her in the ribs, scolding her silently with his bushy eyebrows.

Tony ignored her comment. He didn’t feel like expanding on the matter, and they didn’t press him. Part of him wanted to tell them both that they were wrong, that there was no such thing as a soul mate. Not for him, anyway. If the visions had been trying to tell him anything, it was that Evey and he weren’t meant to be together. Not in this life, or any other.

He was also afraid that Evey _might_ have been his soul mate, that some cosmic entity had originally had plans for them, but that as an Ancient, he no longer had a soul, and the term “soul mate” therefore no longer applied to him, no longer had any significance at all. He was afraid that the bond that should have connected them had been broken before he even met her.

But he kept it to himself, because the other part of him was tired of this. No more thinking about Evey. The Ripper was right, it kept getting them in situations that were each more terrible than the last. They had to focus on the matter at hand: finding Sirius. The next step was to find another portal, he supposed. He waited until the Ripper was done cleaning up before speaking. “To the next portal, then.”

“Yes. And I know what you’re going to say, fledgling, and I agree. No more oval-shaped ones,” the Ripper muttered.

Ted nodded. “Going by my nose, I’d say the exit’s that way,” he said, pointing to his right. They followed him without protest. Always trust a werewolf’s instinct (and his nose) when you’re lost.

They found themselves in a vast clearing, surrounded by a dense forest. “I hope we’re not back on Asmo…I mean, Magnus’s dad’s turf,” Tony commented.

Ted sniffed the air. “Nah. Place smells different. Lots of demons in the area, too.”

The Ripper scanned the trees. “Where? I don’t hear anything.”

“They’re not making a sound, but the stench is unmistakable.”

She nodded, trusting in his nose rather than her own ears. “I suggest looking for the largest tree in the vicinity. The portal’s most likely to be near it, going by experience.” The ones around them were all fairly average in size, so they began to walk.

Of course, it was the trees. The demons Ted had sniffed out were the trees.

All of them.

A branch grabbed the Ripper’s foot as soon as they left the clearing, and though she briefly lost her balance, she didn’t fall. Her daggers were out in a jiffy. She stabbed the tree at random spots, and black, stinking liquid oozed from the wounds. The tree-demon howled in agony, and a moment later all of its friends were howling along with him. The noise was deafening, especially to their sensitive ears.

“Back to the cavern!” Ted shouted as the trees uprooted themselves and began attacking in earnest. He punched one, and it flew away, crashing into several of its fellows. “Now!”

They ran, but the entrance was now blocked by a figure shrouded in black. It was tall and massive, and presumably male. Thankfully, the trees stopped screaming and retreated when they saw the apparition. They returned to their appointed place and froze as though nothing had happened.

The Ripper glared at the new demon. “What do you want? Let us pass!”

Its voice was raspy and echoed in the clearing, but the words were not in English. A second demon appeared at its side, this one shrouded in red. It was shorter, slim and female. It spoke, too, in the same unknown language.

“That’s weird,” Ted remarked. “So far everyone we’ve met understood modern English.”

“They are the First Sacrifices,” another voice explained. Tony swirled toward it. This demon had the appearance of a tall, regal woman, with skin as pale as his own. Her lips were blood-red, her raven hair cascading down her back. She was wearing a lacy crimson dress, but her feet were bare. She was ethereally beautiful, and Tony felt an odd tingling sensation as her eyes, which were the same colour as her dress, passed over him. “Fear not; they shall not harm you. I own them.”

The Ripper fell to her knees, eyes wide with awe. “Lady Lilith,” she breathed, her voice nearly unrecognisable, devoid of sarcasm and sharpness as it was. She bowed her head reverently.

Tony stared at her for a moment, then cautiously eyed the demon again. She smiled at him, and he glimpsed her fangs. “That’s what you get for constantly calling out to her,” he muttered at the Ripper. She didn’t react. Tony wondered if he was supposed to kneel and bow, too, but Lilith started forward, heading straight for him. He gulped down some saliva reflexively. Another death to add to his already impressive record?

But Lilith stopped in front of him. “The Wizard.” She inspected him from head to toe, measuring him, weighing him. Judging him. “Jeanne was right; you are quite the specimen.”

“Jeanne? You know Jeanne?” Tony said. “Is she here?” He looked around, as though his maker would step out of the forest at the mention of her name.

Lilith laughed, her delicate features crinkling prettily. The sound was like crystal, enchanting and pure. “Of course not, silly. This is no place for my most precious children. She is in…” She paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Mm. Apparently I’m not at liberty to reveal that information. My apologies.” She took another step forward. Her bare feet were nearly touching Tony’s shoes. “She says hi, though.”

“’Hi?’” he repeated. “That’s it?”

Lilith smiled fondly. “Also: ‘You’re welcome’.”

Tony glanced down abashedly. Jeanne had died to save him, and had likely prevented Evey from being recaptured, as well. “Oh.” He couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say.

Lilith cupped his cheek with a hand that was comfortably warm. “You poor thing. Your kind was never meant to be separated. You should live forever.” She grimaced, and her face became thunderous. Her eyes turned completely black. “It’s all Fenrir’s fault!” Her voice was distorted. Lightning struck several tree-demons. “That thrice-cursed _beast_. He never thinks ahead, never thinks of the consequences. I told him to wait, all in good time, I said, but did he listen?” She sniffed. Tony assumed that she was talking about the demon Fenrir, and not Greyback. She even glared at Ted, as though he was the demon itself. Thankfully, she didn’t vaporise him.

Lilith slowly regained her composure. She smoothed her dress with exaggerated care. “Anyway. You appear to be lost, my children. You and your pet Wolf,” she amended. Ted grinned at her. After travelling with the Ripper for a few days, he was pretty much immune to name-calling.

The Ripper, still in her uncomfortable position on the ground, spoke softly. “We took a wrong portal, Eternal One. It was my fault.” Tony and Ted both shot her a disbelieving look.

“You misunderstand, my daughter. You are not in trouble. I merely wish to assist you.” She snapped her fingers, and the shrouded figures moved forward obediently. Lilith said something in the language they’d spoken earlier. “They warned me of your presence in this inhospitable realm, and I came as quickly as I could,” she explained. “Now they will guide you to a safe portal.”

“Will the portal lead us to Sirius?” Tony asked. “Do you happen to know-”

Lilith laughed again, like silver bells chiming softly. “I have no clue where the mortal is, I’m afraid. I don’t go out much. I am not supposed to leave my territory at all, in truth, but I made an exception for you, at great peril to myself. I’m sure you’ll find him, eventually. Though I’ll be exorcised if I understand why you’re so attached to it.” She shook her head in puzzlement, her dark, smooth hair gliding in the air around her.

“Alright,” Tony said with a small sigh. “Thank you for your help, um…ma’am.”

The Ripper let out a groan, but Lilith chuckled in delight. “Isn’t he adorable?” Merlin, she sounded just like Jeanne. “Namtar, Samyaza, bring them to safety. Do _not_ fail me.” She snapped her fingers again and disappeared in a cloud of crimson mist, like minuscule droplets of blood. That was what Walden and Evey told him happened to Jeanne, after she died. Tony shuddered at the thought.

The Ripper rose to her feet. “Lilith was here,” she marvelled. Her eyes were wide with awe. “She was _right here_! I talked to her! She called me her daughter...”

“Well, you did keep calling out to her,” Tony noted.

She glowered at Tony, returning to her old, harsh self in an instant. “I can’t believe you embarrassed me in front of her! Don’t you have any manners, you mouldy-”

Ted cleared his throat loudly. “It’s good to know that we have at least one ally out there.”

The shrouded figure in red spoke in its guttural voice and started walking. The trio followed, and the black-shrouded demon brought up the rear. The trees parted hastily to let them pass, and they reached their destination quickly enough. The Ripper was wrong: the portal was not located in the largest tree. It was in the shell of a giant, dead bug, and it was a simple rectangle filled with green light.

“Rectangle. Good,” Ted commented.

Tony turned to their guides. “Thank you.” They probably had no idea what he was saying, but it was the thought that counted, right? He took a step toward the portal.

“Tell the traitors that we shall have our revenge,” Red Shroud rasped ominously.

“They will be punished for their treachery, each backstab repaid a thousand fold,” Black Shroud chimed in.

“The Lady of Night and the Great Beast cannot protect them forever.”

“We will be released from the demons' yoke, and we will slay our masters.” They were speaking in unison now. How wondrously creepy.

“And the Cursed Ones shall perish with them.”

“All of you. Everywhere. Throughout time and space.”

"The End is nigh," they concluded. "And we shall be Its harbingers."

So…they did speak English, though now Tony wished they didn’t. “Traitors? What traitors?”

“You’re so dense, fledgling,” the Ripper chided him. She was idly flipping one of her daggers. “Don’t you know who these two are?”

“The First Sacrifices,” Ted said slowly. “Namtar and Samyaza. The ones Mal and Elle murdered in their attempt to summon the gods.”

Oh. _Those_ sacrifices. Well, no wonder they were a bit cranky. “We’ll…pass on the message,” Tony assured them. Without another word, the demons retreated into the woods. “The sins of the fathers, am I right?” he said lightly, though the foreboding words echoed in his head, superimposing the earlier images of devastation that he had glimpsed during his trip inside the oval-shaped portal.

Ted chuckled, but the Ripper grimaced in annoyance. “Let’s get going, you idiots, before the trees realise that our bodyguards have left.”

“Yeah, I just…" Tony hesitated. "Um, they can’t really defeat Lilith or…you know, the other one. Right?”

“Of course not. They’re not even demons. They’re mortals who were condemned to an eternity of suffering and slavery by their best friends.”

Tony couldn’t quite picture either Malkoran or the Bloodmother savagely murdering their companions for their own selfish motives, but that had happened millennia ago. People changed. They were more…reasonable now. Wiser. Less murder-y. It had been a youth mistake. Happened to everyone, even the very best. People shouldn’t hold a grudge for so long, it wasn’t healthy. He hoped that Namtar and Samyaza came to that same conclusion one day. For everyone’s sake.


	19. Paris at night

Estelle walked ahead of Mal. She was wearing a skirt short enough that he could occasionally glimpse her lacy underwear. Evangeline would have pointed it out to him, had she been here, and they would have laughed about it. But Mal was alone with the French woman tonight. Evangeline and Walden were spending the night together at a nearby hotel. Hopefully it would mollify Walden for a few days.

"I don't suppose you'll answer me truthfully," Estelle said in French as she slowed her pace to walk by his side, "but what are you, exactly?"

"That is not a very polite question," Mal noted. "It is also an intrusive one." Evangeline had warned him that Estelle was curious about him - well, more than curious, really. She was _interested_ in him.

Estelle shrugged her bare shoulders. Her arms were as naked as her legs, and the light blouse she was wearing had trouble containing her imposing bosom. He ought to be drooling all over her, Mal knew. She certainly seemed to expect it. But hers was not a subtle way of flirting, and Mal was more sensible to subtlety than to the absence of clothes to cover one's body. "Your French is impeccable," she said, ignoring his remark. "Have you ever lived in France?"

He had indeed; he'd lived, at least briefly, in most parts of the world, except Antarctica. But the last time he'd been in France dated back to the 18th century. He couldn't very well tell Estelle about the two years he'd spent at Versailles, before the Revolution. "A summer near Bordeaux," he replied nonchalantly. "For my education. I have a way with languages," he added when she glanced at him sideways. "I'm multilingual."

"But what is your mother tongue? Where are you from?"

Gods, she was relentless. There was no modern language that even vaguely resembled his native language, so he cast for something obscure that she was unlikely to have heard of but in which he was fluent. "Igbo. I'm from Nigeria, but I've hardly spent any time there." About four months, back when it was still a British protectorate.

" _Na-akpali_ ," she said with a smile.

_Interesting indeed_ , Mal thought. She was full of surprises - which was what made her so dangerous, in his opinion. Predictable people were never a threat.

"Where are _you_ from?" he asked, eager to divert her attention from him.

"I was born in Réunion." A beautiful island, though Mal had visited it when it was still called _Île de Bourbon_. "Don't remember much about it, though," Estelle confessed. "It was just after the war. We were poor. We were hungry. My parents and my sister died during the big cyclone of 1948. That's about it."

Before Mal could comment on this, she went on: "But enough about me. Tell me, handsome, where do these scars come from?" She pointed to his left cheek.

Unfortunately, Mal didn't have a plausible answer at the ready; people were usually civilised enough to know that it was a rude question. "I..." Shaving accident? Bar fight? Angry grizzly bear? (That one was close enough to the truth.) "I'd rather not talk about it," he said eventually. A perfectly acceptable answer, in his opinion. She had no business asking in the first place.

Estelle chuckled lightly. "It was a woman, wasn't it?"

Curses. "Yes," he mumbled. "But I do not wish to discuss this with you, Estelle."

"Fine, fine," she said with an ample wave of her hand, her numerous bracelets clinking loudly. Then, barely two seconds later: "Where is she now? Is it the woman Evey told me about? The one who lives halfway across the world?"

"Estelle," he said, his patience wearing thin, "it is none of your business. How far is the market now?"

"It's right there," she said. She gestured toward a large, inconspicuous hedge.

Mal frowned. "Is it behind the hedge?"

She gave him an amused smile. "It's a portal, silly. Go on now, go ahead."

"You first," he countered.

"Aw, don't you trust me?" she asked innocently.

"Not in the slightest."

“Why is that? You know everything about me, everything that matters, anyway. If anyone should be distrustful, it is I.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Not in the slightest,” she replied with a grin, just as she took a step inside the hedge. She disappeared, and Mal couldn’t hear branches snapping within. Reluctantly, he followed after her.

He didn’t feel anything as he walked into the portal, but it was one, alright. On the other side was the promised land: the Paris Shadow Market. The first thing Mal noticed was how crowded the place was, despite the hour – it was almost one in the morning. The second was that not everyone around him was strictly human, though it would be hypocritical of him to comment on this.

Estelle was conversing with a tall, hooded silhouette garbed in black, but the shape of it was wrong. It looked like it had several humps underneath its cloak. Mal decided to move closer to them, mainly to listen in on their hushed conversation, but as he took a first step, the silhouette’s neck swung in his direction and it made a gurgling sound. Estelle whispered something and it went away, gliding or floating just an inch over the ground.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” Estelle said as Mal joined her. “You attract more attention than I thought you would.” She studied him critically. “Should have covered your face,” she muttered. “You’re too handsome by far.” She glanced around then spotted what she was looking for. “Come with me.”

There was a stall half-hidden by hanging cloths of various materials. Estelle selected one at random – it was purple with small, bronze crescent moons – and draped it over Mal’s head to make it look like a cowl, showing only his eyes and nose. “Better,” she said. “Now, let’s get down to business.” She started to sashay away from the stall.

“Are you going to pay for that?” the cloth merchant demanded in French – she had a heavy Marseille accent. She looked perfectly human, an average woman in her late forties, but her irises were a bright pink.

Estelle scoffed. “Remind me – how many favours do you owe me, Salomé? I’ve lost count.”

“Times are hard,” Salomé grumbled. “The Aurors keep ambushing us and confiscating our goods. I need the money, Estelle.”

Mal wasn’t sure why the Aurors would confiscate cloth, but he handed Salomé a few Sickles. “Here. I hope it covers our purchase.”

Salomé stared at his hand, lips pursed, a cloying scent of suspicion and disgust wafting from her. Then, unexpectedly, she spat at his feet and spoke in English. “I don’t want your money, Cursed One. Move along now, you’ll scare off my customers.”

Mal stood frozen, eyes wide with shock. “What did you call me?” How could she possibly know-?

Estelle was chuckling. “Don’t mind her. Her cheap parlour tricks are all that she has left. Come now, we have some shopping to do.” She grabbed his elbow and pulled him after her. “May I leave you to purchase the lesser ingredients while I meet with my-”

“Who was that woman?” Mal snapped.

“Just an old half-breed with the Gift,” Estelle said. “Or so she claims. You do look a bit shaken, though. Maybe she was on to something, for once. _Are_ you cursed?” she went on conversationally. “Cursed how? Cursed by whom? There might be a remedy for that here, if you tell me exactly-”

“There is no cure,” Mal said through gritted teeth. He’d searched for one. Dedicated centuries to find one. The only “cure” to his immortality was death, and it wasn’t easy to come by. He certainly wouldn’t find it here. “Because there is no curse,” he lied. “The woman was wrong. I simply didn’t appreciate the way she addressed me and spat at me. It’s quite rude, even by French standards.”

He could barely distinguish Estelle’s trademark scent of coconut and vanilla underneath the strong undercurrent of her curiosity, but she let it go. “If you say so, my pretty. Oh, look, there’s your destination.” She pointed toward a stall that was covered in vials of all shapes and sizes, some of them filled with colourful liquids, others containing plants or small animals. A few appeared to be empty, but were labelled nonetheless. “Here’s your list. I marked down the adequate amount of money that each ingredient is worth – don’t let Mehdi scam you. He _loves_ to negotiate, but he’s usually fair, if you stand up to him. I’ll be back in half an hour or so.” Mal took the piece of parchment and she walked away without looking back.

He approached the stall and examined some of the labels, but he was soon interrupted by the vendor – Mehdi, he assumed.

“My good sir!” the man exclaimed, spreading his arms to welcome him. “How may I be of assistance to you today?” Oddly, he spoke in English. “Ah, you have a list! Perfect. You’re very organised. Let me have a look-”

“No,” Mal hastened to say. He didn’t want the man to see the prices Estelle had written down. “I’ll tell you what I need.”

“Very good, very good,” Mehdi said, unabashed. “I currently have a sale on troll eyeballs, if you’re interested. Three for the price of two, a real bargain!” He held up a glass vase filled with slimy eyeballs as if they were appetizers.

Mal quickly scanned his list, but thankfully troll eyeballs were not on it. “No, thank you. What I do need is…” He read the first ingredient on the parchment.

“A diricawl feather! Magnificent!” Mehdi said. “But expensive, yes, quite expensive. A Galleon for each colour on the feather, my father used to say, but worth the cost.” He rummaged behind his stall and extracted a long, colourful feather. “A beauty, no? Worth all of your hard-earned Galleons.”

If each colour was worth a Galleon, Mal would be Knutless before he could buy any of the other dozen ingredients he needed. “I’ll take it for four Sickles.” Estelle had indicated that it was worth seven, at most.

Mehdi roared with laughter. “Four Sickles! Are you here to rob me, my good sir? This is worth four _Galleons_ , at the very least!”

“Six Sickles,” Mal countered. “It looks a bit dull to me.”

“Dull?” Mehdi repeated incredulously. “Are you blind?” He shoved the feather under Mal’s nose. “Look at this blue, clear as a tropical sea. Look at this yellow, golden and bright as the sun! It must be worth at least two Galleons, for these two vibrant colours.”

Mal pretended to be uninterested and fiddled with the label of another ingredient he needed. “How much for a spoonful of legendberry jam?” he asked.

Mehdi glanced at the vial, the feather forgotten in his hand, then he grinned at Mal. “A gourmet, are we? Three Sickles for this delicacy, good sir.”

“I’ll give you one.” Two Sickles and seven Knuts for the jam, according to Estelle. Gods, he hoped he wouldn’t have to haggle over the price of every single ingredient – it would take him all night.

Mehdi dropped his amiable merchant act for a moment and studied Mal keenly. “How about you tell me all that you need and we’ll discuss the price of that list of yours afterwards?”

Mal nodded, feeling relieved, though he knew that the negotiation would be arduous. “I need soulfang venom.”

Mehdi indicated a tiny crystal vial filled with dark liquid. “Best quality. I harvested it myself, at great peril to my-”

“Two graphorn tentacles,” Mal continued. Mehdi started to gather the vials in a crate as Mal listed off everything on the list. “Octarine-coloured glow dust. The dying breath of a thestral. Four petrified snowflakes harvested during blackthorn winter.” Some of the ingredients were quite specific, and he was afraid that Mehdi would laugh and tell him that no such thing existed, but the merchant piled vials and jars into the crate and didn’t interrupt him again. “A male tabby cat’s ninth life. The two pickled eyeballs of an overwintering wood frog. The squeak of an _Acherontia atropos_.” He had no idea what that was. The Acheron was a river in Greece and – supposedly – in the Underworld, and Atropos was one of the Moirai, in Greek mythology, but that didn’t tell him what that thing was supposed to be.

Mehdi did comment on that, though. “The squeak of a death’s-head hawkmoth, yes, very good. You are in luck, good sir, for this is my last.” He showed off an empty glass vial that fitted into the palm of his hand. “Not rare, but quite popular. I need to restock.”

The squeak of a moth? Well, that was not the strangest thing he’d been asked to purchase, to be fair. There were only a couple of ingredients left. “One honeyed cockroach ootheca and, finally, some erumpent horn liquid.”

This was only about a third of the ingredients they needed; Estelle had already obtained most of the rarer ones, like the thaumatagoria juice and the sopophorous bean, but it would take some time before they were delivered. She was now tracking down the person who could get them the cerebrospinal fluid of an obscurial, which was illegal. Then, of course, they would have to travel to the Underworld and several other places that humans weren’t supposed to access and find the rarest ingredients of all.

Mehdi eyed him shrewdly for a moment, then rubbed his hands, smiling. “Well, if that’s the last of it… Onwards to the payment of these fine goods! Let’s see…” He affected to look over the merchandise in the crate, as though he didn’t already know exactly how much he was going to ask for it. “Mm… Seven Sickles… Twenty-five Knuts for the tabby’s ninth life… A Galleon per tentacle…” He glanced at Mal. “I hope you came prepared, my good sir. This will cost you nineteen Galleons, thirteen Sickles and two Knuts.” He laughed, waving a hand. “Ah, forget about the Knuts. Nineteen G’s and thirteen Sickles for you, my friend.”

Oh, they were friends, now.

“Ten Galleons, Mehdi. Not a Knut more,” Estelle announced in French. She stood next to Mal. “I told you not to let him walk all over you, Adam.”

Mal turned to her in protest. “I didn’t even have time to-“

“Bless my heart, is that the beautiful Estelle? You are a vision to these weary eyes, my dear!” Mehdi exclaimed.

“Spare me,” Estelle said sharply. “Be glad that I’m willing to pay at all. You still owe me, Mehdi.”

It seemed that a great many people owed Estelle, Mal noted.

“Ah, yes, indeed I do. But I owe this one nothing,” he said, gesturing toward Mal. “And he is my customer.”

Estelle smirked. “Ten Galleons, final offer. Otherwise we’ll take our business elsewhere. I’m sure Mélusine will be happy to provide us with-”

Mehdi grimaced at the name. “If poor quality and poorer customer service are what you seek, by all means, pay the fairy a visit.” He sighed with dramatic exaggeration. “Twelve Galleons, Estelle. For you, twelve Galleons. If you pay me any less, I will have to close shop.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” she said. “Considering the three American tourists you managed to racketeer the other night, I doubt that very much indeed. How much did you squeeze out of them, Mehdi? One hundred Galleons for a powdered mammoth tusk that was just flour, was it? I bet Auror Dubois would be interested in that information…”

Mal frowned at the crate, wondering if he’d been conned. Was there anything at all in the vial that supposedly contained a moth’s squeak, or in the one with the thestral’s dying breath?

“You can’t prove anything,” Mehdi said haughtily. “It’s their fault for being so gullible, anyway. If I really had powdered mammoth tusk in my possession, I would be selling it at a much higher price and spending my next vacation in a palace in Monaco instead of a caravan in Quimper.” He gave Mal a toothy grin. “Fear not. It’s all good quality stuff. I wouldn’t want to be on Estelle’s bad side, believe me. I was just hoping to get a fair price for it all before she returned, that’s all,” he admitted.

“So… Ten Galleons for the crate?” Estelle said again.

“Fine, fine, you win. Take it and go, before the tourists arrive.” Mal handed him ten golden coins.

“Oh, and I’m low on unspoken water,” Estelle said, “so add a jug of it for me, would you?” Mehdi’s face soured, but he complied without arguing.

“ _Mademoiselle Rivière_ ,” a deep, suave voice said.

Malkoran’s neck swivelled; he hadn’t heard anyone approach. The newcomer’s figure and his facial features were human, but the resemblance stopped there. His skin was a bluish purple, his hair a pure white, his eyes like golden fire. Silver tattoos glittered on his cheeks and arms like minuscule stars. He was horned. Unlike most of the market’s other non-human patrons, he didn’t bother to cover his eerie appearance with a cloak. He was wearing dark blue dress robes, as any wizard might. He was smiling at them in a disturbing manner, but Mal couldn’t quite define his scent.

“Aaravos, you sneaky Smurf,” Estelle greeted him. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up. Do you have my order?”

“Not yet, I regret to say. There was an…unforeseen delay.”

She put a hand on her hip. “What was Anqi’s excuse, this time?”

“I did not bother to ask. All I know is that the merchandise will be delivered in three days. But lighten up! I will give you a discount: one per cent off for every day that you must wait. Will that appease you?” His smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth.

“Two per cent,” she countered without hesitation.

Aaravos laughed; it was rich and low, and it made Mal shudder. This…man smelled wrong. The scent of magic that wafted from him smelled wrong. Otherworldly. Was he an alien, an extra-terrestrial being? He certainly looked like he belonged on another planet.

“One and a half. Final offer, Estelle. I can find another buyer, you know that. Lunaites are in high demand these days.”

Lunaites? What was that, and why did Estelle need them? It wasn’t on the list.

“That’ll have to do, I suppose,” Estelle said. “But if there’s another ‘unforeseen delay’, I’ll expect to get them for free, you understand?”

“Are you threatening me?” Aaravos said with that same creepy smile. He took a step forward. Mal planted himself in front of Estelle. “Aw, what a cute little puppy you have there!” Aaravos exclaimed. “I haven’t seen one of those in a long time. It was bold of you to bring him here, Estelle. You’d do well to keep him on a leash – and out of sight. An ounce of his blood is worth more than any lunar meteorite.” He patted Mal’s head as if he were petting a dog, and Mal was too shocked to react. “Well, I will see you in three days, then. Toodle-oo!” He vanished in a puff of glittery mist.

Malkoran stared at the empty space in front of him. That wasn’t magic. Well, not the magic he knew, anyway, the sort Evangeline and Walden used. The scent of it was too…sweet, almost sugary. He turned to Estelle to enquire about the lunaites and the strange man, but she spoke right over him. “So you’re a Wolf, uh?” She smiled, and she had a ravishing smile, no doubt about it, but there was a predatory gleam in her eyes when she spoke again. “I suspected, of course, but it’s good to have confirmation.” She took a quick look around, and Mal noticed that a lot of people – and beings – were watching them. The silence was heavy, now that he was focusing on it. “We’d better go,” Estelle murmured. “Aaravos has no use for Wolf blood, thankfully, but Salomé’s a fucking blabbermouth, and the patrons who know about your kind will be all over you when they find out.”

As if they could hurt him. It was impossible to harvest a Wolf’s blood unless he was willing to give it. Besides, how many among this mismatched crowd knew what a Wolf was? It was surprising enough that both Aaravos and Salomé did.

And Estelle, apparently.

“I know what you’re thinking, that they can’t harm you,” Estelle said, “and you’re probably right, but you’ve already ruined the market for me, so let’s escape quietly, shall we? We don’t need another carnage like the one on Dante Street.”

Mal flushed, ashamed at how quickly he had lost his self-control when he’d thought that Evangeline was dying. “Can you Disapparate us out of here?” Magic, as a rule, didn’t have any effect on Wolves. For some reason, however, Side-Apparition was an exception to that rule; the only exception, as far as Malkoran knew.

“No. There are anti-Apparition wards everywhere, to prevent thievery. The portal’s the only way out.”

“But Aaravos-”

“Aaravos didn’t Disapparate,” she explained. “Our wards are useless against him. Our _magic_ is useless against him, because it’s too different from his own. Come on. We’ll walk away at a normal pace, like the innocent people we are. If anyone attacks us – well, you – we’ll make a run for it. I beg you, don’t bite anyone.”

They made their way toward the exit at a leisurely pace. Mal felt like everyone was staring at him, but he was probably being paranoid. It was impossible that so many people would know of the existence of the Wolves; there was a strict policy regarding secrecy among the pack, which his lieutenants had no doubt enforced while Mal was away. Their existence was much more secret than that of the Ancients.

They made it about twenty metres without any incident.

“I’ll give you my first-born for a pint of your blood, Wolf!” a woman yelled in French. Mal frowned at her as she approached them. She was barely old enough to be called a woman; she was younger than Evangeline, sixteen or seventeen at most.

“Er…”

“Sorry, ladies, he’s not interested in your bratty offspring,” Estelle said loudly. “Let us pass, now, or there will be trouble.”

Mal realised that a cluster of women had quickly assembled all around them, blocking their path. Estelle pushed past the first one, the girl who’d just offered him her future child, but one of the older ones grabbed Estelle’s arm. “You damn witch!” she spat. “You’ve had him all this time, and you kept him to yourself? You selfish, evil bitch! My son died of cancer two weeks ago. He was 22, Estelle! If I’d known that there was a Wolf in the area-”

“Shut up, Hélène,” Estelle growled. Her voice was low but carried a promise of pain if the woman didn’t comply. “Shut the fuck up, and let us through.”

Malkoran stared at them in utter confusion. What in Hades was going on here?

The woman turned to him and pointed an accusatory finger at his chest. “And you! You people have been around for Merlin knows how long, and it never occurred to you to do this one good deed for us? No, let the little people suffer! Their lives are worthless, they’re inferior, and what’s the point? They’re gonna die anyway! You, sir, are worse than Hitler, worse than all of them Nazis. You’re a horrible, horrible man. No, a _creature_. You’re devoid of a soul, you’re-”

The woman seemed out of breath when Estelle cut her off. “Alright, that’s enough. Leave him alone.” She drew her wand and pointed it at her own throat. When she spoke again, her voice was magically enhanced and it resonated throughout the market. “Enough! The next person who comes near us gets a hex in the face. The one after that gets eaten.” She cocked her head to indicate Mal. “Have you ever seen a transformed Wolf up close?” No one replied. “I have. He stands taller than a giant. He can swallow any one of you whole. You’ll be digested alive in his belly.”

She was exaggerating. It didn’t work like that, but Mal understood what she was doing.

“You will let us pass. You will keep your mouths shut. If anyone disobeys, I swear, the inside of his stomach will be the last thing you ever see, before the acid eats at your eyes.”

Again, it was a silly threat. The inside of his stomach would be too dark to see.

“Did everyone hear that?” Estelle insisted. “For your sake, I hope so.” She removed the spell that was enhancing her voice and started walking. Mal hurried after her. The crowd parted in dead silence, but their eyes followed him, accusing, condemning. The eyes of wretched humans who hadn’t yet come to terms with their own mortality and the unfairness of their lives. Who never would.

Once they were safely out of reach, beyond the portal, Mal took Estelle aside. “What was _that_ all about? I don’t understand the correlation between the monetary worth of my blood and that poor woman’s dead child.” And the uncalled-for Hitler comparison. Mal had not been around during World War II, but he had caught up on what had happened. He’d been called many things in his long life, but never something quite as heinous as that.

Well, he did have some idea of what the forlorn mother meant, but it was ridiculous. “Wolf blood is no cure for cancer, if that’s what she was implying.” He’d never considered the possibility himself, but Hernán, in his on-going quest for redemption, had done experiments with his own blood (and other bodily parts). He’d spent a large part of the 19th century in a laboratory, simultaneously following the advances of Muggle medicine and magical healing.

Estelle hesitated for a moment. She smelled…embarrassed. “I’m well aware of that. It’s Nicolas’s fault, okay? When he figured out what you people were, he assumed that your blood had magical properties that could work wonders, perhaps miracles, in several fields, including alchemy, potion-making, healing. He was _obsessed_ about it.”

“He must have been sorely disappointed,” Mal murmured. In over seventy years of research, Hernán had discovered exactly two uses of Wolf blood: it killed regular vampires if they drank too much of it, and it could be used to exorcise minor demons. (According to Hernán, this was because lesser demons sensed Fenrir’s essence in their blood and were thus frightened off the body they were possessing).

“He never got to be disappointed, because he never managed to obtain even a drop of your blood. He contacted your people, the handful whose identities he’d guessed over the centuries, but none reply. He promised to keep their secret in exchange for a sample of blood. He offered them rare ingredients and money, even the secret of the Stone. When that failed, he tried to appeal to their sense of compassion, to their humanity. He got nothing.”

Mal considered asking her which of his cubs had been contacted by the famous alchemist, but that might lead to Estelle prying the names of the entire pack.

“He became frustrated, angry,” Estelle went on. “He threatened to expose them. Pernelle urged him to stop. She was afraid that they – you – would kill Nicolas for his attempted blackmail.”

“Was that a possibility?” Estelle eyed him questioningly. “Did he have any concrete proof of our existence? Could he really have exposed us?”

She hesitated, and her scent was pure confusion, which did nothing to appease him. “Adam… That is, Malkoran… He _did_ expose you. He had photographs. That Russian lunatic? He was hardly trying to hide who he was. He appears at several political events, and he’s easily recognisable, if you know who you’re looking at.”

For the first time in…in his entire _life_ , in truth, Mal felt dizzy. _Impossible. They would have told me. And Evangeline… She didn’t know about us, before she was captured by Damian. It makes no sense._

“There was also that rabid werewolf who went on a killing spree in the trenches, during the Great War. Pernelle helped with the investigation – they assumed it was a demon, at first, given that the murders happened in broad daylight – and while the Aurors never closed the case, Pernelle and Nicolas deduced that it was the work of a Wolf. They’d seen it before. The Beast of Gévaudan, the Werewolf of Dole…”

All these murders were perpetrated by the same man, though the Werewolf of Dole – Gilles Garnier – had not yet been turned at the time. _That_ particular string of murders had been the work of a demon.

“To them, this was confirmation of a theory they’d hatched centuries earlier: the existence of immortal werewolves. And why not? There are immortal vampires, after all. There must be balance between the two species.”

“But…” But what? He’d only met Grigori once, but from what the others had told him, he was perfectly capable of breaking their rules on secrecy. And Estelle wasn’t lying, that much he could tell. “No one in Great Britain knows about us. Evangeline said that all members of the Order of the Phoenix were _baffled_ when she revealed our existence.” Well, all except Albus Dumbledore, but Hannibal had assured Mal that their secret was safe with the old wizard. They’d worked together during World War II, though Mal didn’t know the exact circumstances of that temporary partnership.

“Yes, well, photographs and hunches aren’t proof enough, apparently… Their theory was debated, disputed, discredited, refuted. By pretty much everyone, in the end, since no Wolf ever came forward. After Nicolas claimed that their blood was a panacea, the common rabble wanted this miraculous cure to be made available to all, but their pleas were ignored. Nicolas exposed you, but you didn’t respond in any way, so eventually the outcry died down. It was dismissed. Most people assumed that it was a hoax, or the fantasy of an eccentric, senile wizard in need of attention. There was a brief surge of indignation after Chernobyl, what with all the cancers that followed, but that was short-lived.” She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be on the news tomorrow, though, you can bloody well count on that. I hope that none of them got a picture of you.”

“What’s Chernobyl?”

Estelle raised an eyebrow. “The nuclear catastrophe in Ukraine? Have you been living in a cave these past twelve years?”

“Sort of,” he mumbled.

“Anyway, people have mostly forgotten about it now, since Wolves have remained elusive so far, but Shadow Markets all over the world have been selling fake Wolf blood for three decades. The prices are ludicrously high, of course, and you’d think people would be smart enough to know that miraculous remedies don’t magically appear precisely when they need it… But they aren’t. Fake blood is a plague to the Aurors, just like powdered mammoth tusks. It’s so easy to sell something that looks like it but isn’t, you know?”

“I can’t believe it.” He couldn’t believe that no one had told him about it, to be more accurate. Hannibal, Ramesses, William… Hernán. At least one of them had to know about this. To be fair, there had been a lot to catch up on when Mal had returned to Europe, but still, you’d think this was of the utmost importance. In fact, it would have warranted a message to Kunlun, Mal thought. They should have nipped it in the bud. It was too late now, obviously.

Their secret was out, and it had been out there for quite some time, too, even if people appeared to be dismissive of it. He would have to investigate the matter.

He could begin by asking Ramesses about it, tomorrow, after - if - they made it out of the Duat.


	20. Here we are now, entertain us

“That’s more like it,” the Ripper said contentedly as she finished off the last demon. She removed her dagger from its eye and wiped it on the piece of cloth Ted had lent her earlier, even though it was already grimy with her own blood. She was covered head to toe in green slime, but she was grinning like a loon.

As soon as they’d set foot on the other side of the last portal, a horde of serpopards had attacked them. If Tony had been alone, he would have been torn to shreds a thousand times, and would have kept regenerating almost instantaneously, never dying, never fully healing, always being devoured.

Therefore, despite her psychopathic tendencies and blunt manners, he was glad that the Ripper had tagged along.

The whole business must have lasted less than a minute. Tony was still staring open-mouthed at the scene by the time the Ripper took care of the last demon. He’d come last through the portal and had found himself in a war zone, green gook and bits of serpopards flying everywhere.

Ted had observed from afar. He seemed mesmerised by the grace and skill of their favourite assassin as she’d stabbed three dozen demons to death all by herself.

“I’ll give it to you,” Tony said. “That was pretty impressive.”

The Ripper shrugged. “That’s why I’m here, innit?”

“Impressive?” Ted said. “It was bloody magnificent!”

The Ripper averted her gaze but made no comment. “Anyway. We should keep moving. Maybe there are more of them ahead,” she added hopefully.

This realm looked like the Saharan Desert. There was sand. The blood-red sun would have instantly caused first-degree burns on a mortal. It would have disintegrated a mere vampire. Tony was thankful for his body’s ability to ignore heat and cold alike.

Did he mention that there was sand? It was everywhere. Once they’d let the serpopards behind, there was nothing _but_ sand. It was going to be a long walk. “Maybe we could ask Lilith to guide us to the nearest portal?” Tony suggested.

The Ripper shot him a reproachful glare. “I’m sure she has better things to do than babysit us, fledgling.”

“Mm. Maybe we should ask your grandpa, then,” he told Ted. “Surely Fen-”

“Shhhh!” Ted hissed. “Are you insane? We’re lucky enough to have survived the fanged lady, but we can’t risk naming _him_. If Greyback was savage, imagine what…that guy would be like.”

That was a good point. But Lilith had been so nice and supportive! “What makes you think he’d resent you asking for help? Is it because _we’re_ here?” He made a gesture that encompassed the Ripper and himself. Granted, Lilith had not been particularly happy to see Ted.

“I’m just saying, if we can avoid meeting him altogether, we stand a better chance of getting out of here alive.”

“Malkoran told you to avoid him, didn’t he?” the Ripper said. Ted muttered under his breath. “Fair enough. Though it’d be nice if someone could point out the next portal, because I hate this place.” She kicked at the sand, a mutinous expression on her face. She’d already forgotten about her recent fight with the serpopards, apparently.

“Why, you need only ask,” a silky voice said.

Great. Whichever demon this was, at least they’d be out of the desert soon. Unless it decided to trap them in a pyramid or bury them under a ton of sand. Tony turned toward the demon. It was taller than most men, with broad shoulder and narrow hips. Its skin was bronze. It was wearing a black kilt, and nothing else. Tony hoped it was at least wearing boxer shorts underneath.

He recognised the demon right away. Its distinctive head was a dead giveaway. No one knew exactly what animal it was; possibly an aardvark, a jackal, a fennec or a donkey, perhaps a combination of two or more of those. Egyptologists simply called it the Set animal.

“Set?” he said. On the one hand, he was glad that he’d recognised it - _him_ , but on the other hand… Well, it was Set. Technically, he was a god rather than a demon, but one of Chaos and Evil (most of the time, anyway). He definitely belonged here.

“A man with an education!” the god exclaimed. “Good, good. Recognition is bliss, is it not?” Nobody replied, but Tony figured that it was a rhetorical question. “Well, little human-headed bags of flesh. What can Set do for you today?”

Tony was about to ask about Sirius but Ted spoke over him. “How come you speak English? Aren’t you an Egyptian…evil god?”

That was actually a very good question. When he’d stepped through the portal at the Ministry of Magic, Tony was worried that they wouldn’t be able to communicate with any of the demons – the only one he’d ever encountered before, summoned when he was a foolish teenager, had spoken exclusively Cthulhian, and Walden wasn’t here to translate this time. Instead, every demon spoke flawless English. _British_ English. He assumed it was because they were greater demons. The blue bug they’d summoned all those years ago had been one of the lesser ones.

Set cocked his animal head sideways. “I’m merely dumbing it down for you, my dears. If you prefer, I can trace hieroglyphs in the sand, if it’ll make your experience here more genuine.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Tony said quickly. “It’s just…how do you even know English? How did you learn it?”

Set stared at him. “I’m a _god_. I know every language in the universe. Now, what is it that you need, exactly?”

It was a bit odd that every demon – or god – they encountered tried to help them in their quest. Why was everyone so eager to see them succeed? That Lilith would assist them made sense, since she was the Original Vampire, practically family, but Set? Or Asmodeus, for that matter? Abaddon clearly had a crush on the Ripper, but still. “Why are you helping us?” They _appeared_ helpful, but the trio had been travelling from one portal to the next with no idea where they were supposed to go. Were the demons toying with them?

Set considered his reply carefully. “Well…we’re expressly forbidden to harm you, so we do the next best thing: we pretend to be helpful so we can be entertained by your shenanigans for as long as possible.”

That was a blunt answer. The Ripper, though she was an expert on bluntness, didn’t seem to like it. She took a step forward. “Who forbid you to harm us?” She made it sound like it was a bad thing.

“Also, if that’s the case,” Tony added, “how do you explain the serpopards?”

“Eh, I don’t know who sent the memo,” Set said indifferently. “But come on! The serpopards were just a bit of fun. I knew you could handle them. Lesser demons can’t damage you, not permanently.”

“But you can?” Too late, Tony realised that this was a stupid question to ask a malicious god.

Set regarded him with a predatory gaze. “I don’t know, and I’m not allowed to find out.”

Well, that was reassuring. “You know why we’re here, then?” Set made no reply. “Are you going to lead us astray, like the others did?”

Set shook his head. “I have no clue why you’re here. I just knew to expect you.”

“We’re looking for a mortal-” Tony began to explain, foraging in his pockets to find Sirius’s photograph.

The godly demon (demonic god?) grinned, displaying a set (ha!) of sharp-looking teeth. “A mortal! Delicious. Such fine gourmet cuisine. I commend you for your impeccable taste in food.”

“Er…he’s a friend, actually.”

“That’s unusual,” Set said. “I rarely befriend my food before consuming it.”

“We have no intention of _eating_ him,” Tony said with some impatience. “We want to find him and bring him home. Alive and in one piece,” he clarified, in case Set was still confused.

He was, apparently. “Home…you mean the Mortal Plane? Why in Ra’s name would you-” He cut off, gagging and coughing, like a cat trying to expel a hairball. “Ugh. Pardon me. I misspoke. I meant, why in the _Master’s_ name would you ever go there?”

“Because that’s where we _come from_ ,” Tony said, passing a hand through his hair. Was Set being dense on purpose? “Hence the term ‘home’.”

“But _this_ is your home,” Set insisted. “You’re demon spawn, you have immortal souls. You belong here, with your kin, not with the filthy humans.”

Tony took a deep breath, something he had not done in a long time, but Ted put a hand on his shoulder to prevent an explosion of temper. “Do you know where we can find our friend?” the Wolf asked. “Do you have any idea at all?”

Set closed his eyes for a moment. A rather long moment. Tony wondered if he’d fallen asleep when he finally opened them again. “He’s not in my realm, that I can tell you. His soul is not in the Duat, either, according to my brother.”

Ted frowned. “Your brother…Osiris?” The barest of nods. “Did you just…ask him?”

“Yes, I did,” Set replied offhandedly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Tony had been taught that the two of them were nemeses or something, but maybe that had changed over the centuries. (Millennia? Eons?) “Okay, let’s think about it, children.” Set began pacing. As you’ve no doubt guessed by now, there aren’t many mortals in these parts. They’re useless and revolting and therefore unwelcome. Still, the Master occasionally keeps a handful of them around. Their purpose is mainly decorative, though they can serve as coat hangers or cup bearers when the Master wants to impress his guests. These mortals’ souls are still attached to their bodies, but they’re unhinged, which renders them unable to do anything but stand and obey simple commands. The dead mortals, the ones whose souls have been detached entirely or vaporised, are used as fodder for Apophis. He does love human meat.” He smiled approvingly at Apophis’s taste in food.

_Let us hope that Sirius is part of the first category_ , Tony thought.

“We’ll want to pay the Master a visit, then,” the Ripper said. “How do we get there?”

“I’m not allowed in His realm,” Set grimaced. “Few of us are.”

That would have been too easy, Tony supposed. “Is there a portal nearby, so we can search another realm, until we find someone who can actually help us?”

“You don’t need a portal. I can teleport you anywhere you want. Well, almost anywhere.”

Tony blinked. “Wait, can all greater demons do that?” He could see outrage in the Ripper’s eyes as she must have had the same thought.

Set shook his head. “Nah, not all of them, but most. Asmodeus and Abaddon certainly can. There is a hierarchy amongst the…greater demons, as you call them. There are realms that are off-limits to some or all of them. It’s quite complicated – they’re territorial and they don’t like to share.”

Tony noted that Set didn’t consider himself a greater demon – he said “them”, not “us”.

“Could the Lady Lilith-” the Ripper began to say.

Set laughed heartily. “The only realm Lilith is allowed to visit freely is her own. She will be punished for setting foot outside of it to come to your aid.”

“She’ll be punished?” the Ripper repeated in a low, worried voice.

Set ignored that and went on explaining how travelling worked within Pandemonium. Tony wished they'd been informed when they first arrived, but the Ripper had pissed off Death... “The portals are meant for lesser demons. Greater demons can travel at will, with certain restrictions according to their…rank.” He grinned again. “Your various antics in Pandemonium have been highly entertaining, though, which will certainly explain why no one bothered to give you a ride.”

Tony considered several choice expletives, but eventually settled for another question. “But if you can’t send us to the Master’s realm, how does that help us?”

Set shrugged. “It’s the only place I cannot access. As a god, every other realm is within my reach, and therefore yours. Tell me where you want to go and I’ll send you there. Or I can point you in the direction of my realm’s portal. It’s entirely up to you. That way, if the destination is unsatisfying, you have only yourselves to blame,” he said cheerfully.

“Alright.” Tony glanced at his two companions. “Just…give us a moment to discuss this among ourselves, please?” Set took three steps backwards, produced a nail polisher out of thin air and went to work on his nails, feigning disinterest in their conversation.

Ted and the Ripper moved closer to Tony. “I’m going to strangle Abaddon until his eyeballs pop out of his stupid skull and I’ll make him eat them!” the Ripper growled. “Then I will find Asmodeus and rip his tongue out, and feed it to his son!”

“Hey, I get it, you’re annoyed and frustrated,” Tony said soothingly. They all were. “But leave Magnus out of this, yeah?” He hoped that the youthful-looking warlock had made it out of Pandemonium safely. “We have to talk to the Master, somehow. If Sirius is alive, he’ll be there. There must be a way to get to his realm.”

“Actually,” Set called, unabashed that he was eavesdropping, “the Master’s realm is not open to visitors, no matter how distinguished. Unless you’re summoned, of course.”

Distinguished visitors? Was that what they were?

“Well, not all of you,” Set said with a snide smile. He gestured toward the Ripper. “She is. You’re not.”

Tony cursed himself for a fool. _Gods can read minds. Got to remember that._

Then: _Wait. The_ Ripper _is considered a distinguished guest?_

“This is Pandemonium, little fledgling,” Set reminded him. _She’s quite the legend around here._

_Don’t do that!_ Tony exclaimed. _Don’t talk to me in my head. Merlin, stop intruding!_

“Can you two have a normal conversation, for fuck’s sake?” the Ripper barked. “This is maddening! What are you saying about me?”

“Nothing,” Tony lied. “Let’s get back on tracks. Does the Master have a…secretary or something? Someone who takes appointments for him? There has to be at least one demon who has access to-”

Set roared with laughter, his animal head thrown back. “You have no idea how hilarious that is! He doesn’t have a pretty blonde girl waiting by the telephone, if that’s what you had in mind,” he said, still chuckling. “But you are correct nonetheless. There is such a demon…” His eyes were bright with glee. “I’ll be delighted to take you to him.”

* * *

To be fair to all the greater demons they’d met and who had not mentioned the teleportation thing, travelling via sandstorm was less pleasant than using a portal. Well, most portals, anyway.

Of course, Set had refused to give them the name of the demon they were looking for. Again, it would have been too easy. He’d assured them that they would know him when they saw him, though.

As he dusted himself off and spat another mouthful of sand, Tony noticed that this place was very different from any other realm they’d visited before. It was quite crowded, for one thing. There were demons everywhere, lesser ones, milling about in a rush, ignoring everyone else. None of them tried to attack the trio. They didn’t even spare them a glance.

Screams of agony echoed across the valley – the area looked like what Tony imagined Mordor looked like, back in Sauron’s glory days. The ground was black and rocky. A volcano was spewing lava in the distance. The air smelled of sulphur. Some of the demons even looked vaguely like goblins and Uruk-hai.

No demon really stood out in the mass, however. After exchanging a look with the other two, they decided to move. They walked toward the volcano. Tony hoped that the demon in charge of this realm wasn’t the actual Sauron. Was that even possible? After everything they’d seen, all the demons they’d encountered, Tony wouldn’t be too surprised if that were the case. At least there was no giant fiery eye in the sky.

Several hundred metres ahead, there was a large, shallow pit in which demons were being tortured in various ways. Some were being quartered, others set on fire or waterboarded with acid. Tony looked away in disgust. “Why are demons torturing other demons?”

The Ripper shrugged. “Maybe they disobeyed orders, or didn’t get things done to their boss’s taste. Lesser demons are notoriously lazy and fickle.”

“And ugly,” Ted added as they passed a pinkish horror with masses of tumours all over its face.

The Ripper smiled thinly. “That, too.”

A scream among the constant wails and moans caught Tony’s attention. It sounded…familiar. He scanned the pit, and eventually spotted-

His heart figuratively skipped a beat. “Is that…Greyback?” he whispered in horror. Ted nodded mutely. He’d noticed him, too.

The Wolf was being branded with a hot poker – a series of numbers was etched into the skin of his forearm. The most recent brand mark vanished as Tony watched. Interesting; even dead, Greyback still regenerated. _Was_ he dead, though? He looked very much alive.

“That’s cruel, even for this place,” Ted murmured. “That’s his Auschwitz number.”

Tony didn’t care. Greyback had done worse. Much worse.

If Jeanne hadn’t wound up in Pandemonium after she died, why was Greyback here? Was that what the last sentence of his Library biography meant? His soul had been “unsuccessfully harvested” because it had somehow ended up here instead of…wherever immortal souls went when the body they inhabited finally died?

The Ripper nudged him in the ribs and spoke in a murmur. “Look at his torturer. It has to be the demon we’re after.”

She was probably right, because the demon who was torturing the Wolf didn’t look like a demon at all; like all the greater demons they’d met before, he had donned a human appearance. He was tall and muscular, with skin darker than the Bloodmother’s and a bald head. He was bare-chested and wore baggy camouflage pants that stood out in this hellish setting.

In a sea of ugly, misshapen demons, it seemed logical to assume that the good-looking humanoid one was in charge. They made their way toward him.

The demon’s head snapped in their direction when they approached. "Ooh, snacks!" he exclaimed in delight, showing filed teeth. He sniffed the air around them, and his silvery eyes rested on Ted with a small frown. "Mm, you smell familiar." He glanced briefly at Greyback before returning his attention to them. His expression hardened. “Oh, it’s you. Took your sweet time.”

"Who're ye?" Ted demanded, though Tony had a pretty good idea who the demon was, and suspected that Ted did, as well, from the way he’d tensed upon being sniffed.

The demon grinned suddenly. "You may recognise me more easily in this form."

The ground rumbled. Lesser demons scattered. The man who stood before them grew in size until he was taller than the volcano behind him, and then his shape shifted into that of a wolf, a gigantic black animal with golden eyes. Its paws crushed demons and boulders alike. The beast was still grinning, and each of its fangs was about Tony’s height.

“Told you we shouldn’t look for him,” Ted muttered resignedly.


	21. You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting

They were waiting for their godly taxi out in the street. Paris was strangely quiet that night. The city was almost pleasant, when there weren’t hordes of tourists ambling around. Or hordes of hurried locals, for that matter.

Evey was brimming with excitement. She couldn’t believe that, in a few minutes, she would be in the Duat – in another plane of existence, another (Under)world. Before they went missing, what had bothered her most about Tony and Walden going to Middle-earth was that she couldn’t accompany them.

She could tell that she was the only one who was looking forward to this little jaunt. Malkoran was too preoccupied by Estelle’s recent revelations, and Walden was…probably wishing that Mal wasn’t there. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left Estelle’s basement, but he was holding on to her hand with more force than was strictly necessary. Estelle, as planned, was staying behind. She would start preparing some of the ingredients for the elixir: macerating, soaking, distilling, crushing, mincing.

For the second time in less than five minutes, Malkoran glanced at his watch. It was ten past eleven – Hades was late, but that wasn’t what was bothering him, Evey knew.

“You’re making a fuss over nothing,” Evey assured him. “If it was such a big deal, we would have heard about it, Mal. People don’t really believe that immortal werewolves exist. Most of them don’t even believe in Ancients, despite their numerous indiscretions. Authors and journalists who so much as mention them are immediately rebutted and discredited by their peers. I swear, I’d only heard vague legends about Wolves before, fairy tales really, nothing more. It couldn’t even be classified as a rumour.”

“Perhaps it’s more than a rumour here in France,” Mal insisted. “You should have seen the people at the market, Evey.” Uh. This was the first time he’d called her that. He must be troubled indeed. She glanced at her husband, certain that he must have noticed and that he would make a comment, but he seemed to be paying no attention to their conversation. “Someone told them I was a Wolf, and they believed it without question. A girl offered to give me her first-born child, for crying out loud.”

Yeah, that was…disturbing. Evey had always assumed that the first-born child thing was a Muggle fabrication. What use could a person possibly have for another person’s baby? Maybe it could be used as a potent sacrifice in a summoning ritual. Or maybe the likes of Estelle brewed evil potions that required it as an ingredient.

Well, that was gross. Thankfully, Hades pulled her out of that line of thought.

“Better hurry,” the god said with a smirk. “The meter is running.”

“You’re late,” Evey scolded him. “Is there a time difference between Paris and the Underworld?”

“There’s no such thing as ‘time’, girl. It’s a human invention. It means nothing to me.”

“But you did know when to come pick us up, though,” she pointed out.

Hades hesitated for a moment. “Well, yes, because…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ugh, never mind. You couldn’t possibly understand. We should go. I will drop you in the Duat – at the front door, so to speak – and then I’ll go get the pharaoh. Hold on to your hats!”

Malkoran frowned at the god, and Evey presumed that he was about to remark that none of them were wearing hats, but there was no time.

The Hades Travelling Method™ was nothing like Apparition; it was more like a roller coaster. In Evey’s opinion, that was a good thing, but both Malkoran and Walden looked like they were about to be sick when they regained the ability to feel the ground under their feet. Mal actually leaned forward, elbows pressed against his knees, but nothing came out. Also a good thing.

Walden looked even paler than usual, and his lips were tightly pressed, but he nodded to Evey, to let her know he was okay.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Hades announced. He vanished without a sign that he’d been there at all, as he always did.

Evey took a good look around while Mal recovered. Ahead of her, there was nothing - there was only a void, an empty space, which seemed infinite. Her feet were on solid ground, though. It was made of old stones. Just when she was about to turn, Walden tapped her on the shoulder. “V, take a gander at this.” His voice was low; he sounded wary.

A sphinx. Of course there was a sphinx. That made perfect sense, given where they were.

Only problem: it was about fifteen feet tall, and the glowering eyes it fixed upon them were not exactly warm and welcoming. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Its face was androgynous, its voice deep but neither male nor female.

“Um, no, I guess not,” Evey said. “But we won’t be long. We just need-”

“This is the Land of the Dead. Most of you are alive,” the sphinx noted.

“Fine, let me through, then,” Walden said. “I’m dead.”

The sphinx shook its human head. “Not dead enough.”

“We won’t make any trouble,” Evey insisted. “Ask Hades when he comes back.”

“Hades was here?” Evey nodded. “That is highly irregular. Trespassing on another god’s territory is a grievous offence. We may have to inform the Council.”

Hades had not mentioned that. Also, what Council? “He was only here for a second,” Evey assured the creature. “Just dropping us off.”

“Bringing live humans into the Duat is also a grievous offence. This is not Karnak, little girl. We do not allow degenerate tourists in this most sacred-”

“Ugh, you overzealous kitten.” Hades had reappeared, Evey realised. Beside him stood an elderly man with fuzzy white hair and an aquiline nose. He was wearing a tweed suit. Unlike Malkoran and Walden earlier, the trip from America to the Duat didn’t appear to have fazed him. “Move aside, Guardian. Anubis was notified of our visit, as per our rules. Your Master is expecting the humans.”

The sphinx muttered something in a language Evey didn’t recognise, but it let them pass. Behind it was a large gate, which opened on its own. It revealed nothing but a long, paved road with sand on either side.

“Be careful,” Hades warned them. “They’re expecting you, but they have no obligation to release you or even keep you alive.”

“How good of you to tell us that _now_ ,” Walden said.

“Hey, you didn’t ask,” Hades pointed out. “And I don’t make the rules, not in this place. Say hi to Ozzy for me,” he added before vanishing again. Nobody moved nor talked for a moment.

“Word of advice,” the old man said into the silence, “do not call Osiris ‘Ozzy’ to his face.”

Evey chuckled. “That’s sound advice, I should think.” She took a step forward and extended her hand. “I’m Evey. It’s an honour to meet you, sir.” He shook her hand; he had a strong grip. Well, no matter how old he may look, he was a Wolf. If he’d ever suffered from arthritis, it was long gone.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Malkoran said. “My apologies. Ramesses, this is Evangeline Macnair, and this is her husband, Walden.”

“Yes, I’ve heard quite a lot about you, Mrs Macnair. I even glimpsed you, two years ago, after you were rescued by the cubs.”

“Right. Sorry I didn’t stay long enough to introduce myself,” she said.

“That was perfectly understandable.”

“Shall we?” Evey said, indicating the open gate. Ramesses nodded, and everyone followed her inside the Land of the Dead.

* * *

“You need a heart,” Ramesses repeated. A moment ago, he had been looking around with awe and child-like wonder. This was the Duat. More specifically the Land of the Dead, where the souls of his ancestors lived on. He had travelled much in his life, but here was a place that he had not expected to visit for a while yet, if ever.

Now, however, he was studying his Alpha with a faint scowl. “A heart that has been…licked by the goddess Ammit.” Ammit was called the Devourer – _not_ the Licker – for a reason.

“The heart of an unworthy human,” the Alpha clarified.

“Did you…bring such a heart?” Ramesses asked politely, though he knew what his Alpha was going to say.

Malkoran patted his own chest. “I did.”

“Alpha…”

“Ugh, Mal, I won’t hear it again,” the young woman, Evangeline, said. “This place is some sort of gigantic tomb, isn’t it? They must have some superfluous hearts lying around. We’ll just…borrow one.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” someone else said.

Their little group stopped in their tracks to inspect the newcomer. There was no doubt in Ramesses’s mind as to who it was. “Lord Anubis,” he murmured, head bowed.

“Uh-huh, hello, howdy,” the god greeted them with some impatience. “Look, I'm not sure what you were hoping for, but I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. We do not, in fact, keep hearts ‘lying around’, as you say. If you don’t have one with you…” He paused, his jackal head (or was it a wolf?) cocked sideways. “In fact, even if you do happen to have one, Ammit won’t just lick it for you, you know. That’s not what she does.”

“She can’t possibly eat _all_ the hearts of the deceased that are considered unworthy,” Evangeline said. “That can’t be good for her diet.”

Anubis looked offended. “The gods don’t _diet_. We don’t need to. We’re flawless.” He gestured at his own figure, as if to prove his point.

“It was merely a jest,” Malkoran explained.

“Ugh, live humans and their mystifying sense of humour. I prefer you when you’re dead.”

“I’m sure we’ll be dead soon enough, by your standards,” Evangeline said. “Look, sir, Lord Anubis, we-”

“You will be, alright. Sooner than you think.”

The young woman seemed puzzled by the interruption, but she recovered quickly. “We just need this one thing, then we’ll be out of your hair. We’ll wait for the next person to show up at the scales, and if they’re unworthy, we’ll take their heart. I mean, they won’t be needing it anymore. Surely Ammit won’t mind-”

Anubis made a sound that must have been intended as laughter. “What next person? No one has come through here in many of your human centuries, girl. To do so, one would have to _believe_ in the afterlife we offer. Humans don’t believe in anything anymore.”

Walden frowned at the god. “Many people believe in Heaven and-”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Anubis cut him off. “Unfortunately for them, those places do not _exist_.”

“But…where do they go after they die, then?” Evangeline asked.

Anubis’s canine face twisted in a bitter grin. “The people who mistakenly believe in Heaven and Hell would call it Purgatory, I suppose. We gods have various names for it: the Waiting Room. The In-Between. The Neverwhere.” He shrugged. “The unclaimed souls will remain there until a judgement can be passed, but I doubt that the Council will ever come to an agreement, so most likely, they’ll be there until…the End. Ah, but then again, that may happen sooner than I anticipated.”

“The End as in…”

“Doomsday. Armageddon. Ragnarök. The Hour. Shambhala. Unfortunately, most of these cutesy concepts have a major flaw: they claim that the believers and the faithful will be saved. That is not the case. The End will be the End, for all. Including us, I should think, and about time, too.”

“Oh-kay,” Evangeline said slowly. “And when you say that it may happen sooner than you anticipated, do you mean next week, or more like…next century?”

“Hard to tell, since both are basically the same to me.”

“And that Council everyone keeps mentioning, what is it, exactly?”

Anubis closed his eyes. For a moment, he seemed to lose some substance. Ramesses could faintly glimpse the paved road behind the god – through him, really. “I’m not at liberty to say,” he said when he opened his eyes again. “Apparently, I’ve said too much already.”

“Well, it’s not important,” Evangeline said. “It’s not why we’re here. About that heart-”

“It’ll have to be one of yours,” Anubis asserted.

“Mine, as planned,” the Alpha said.

The young woman put her hands on her hips and scolded him. “I’m willing to do a lot of things to help Sirius, but I won’t let you sacrifice yourself, Mal. You don’t even know the bloke.”

Malkoran’s eyes widened. He looked – and smelled – genuinely surprised. “Who said anything about a sacrifice? Evangeline, this is not going to kill me. We’ll use my current blood-pumping organ, which is not the one I was born with, and then I’ll regrow yet another. There is no need to make a fuss.”

She stared at him open-mouthed. It was her husband who spoke up. “Your _heart_ will regrow? Are you sure about that, mate?”

“Absolutely. I have done this before. I’ve tried to kill myself in every way you could possibly imagine, but I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Ramesses sighed. He knew of this, of course. In fact, he'd helped with the experiments more than once, on Malkoran's orders.

“Oh, Mal…” Evangeline said faintly.

“That’s fucked-up,” Walden concurred. “But really, it doesn’t have to be you. My heart is completely useless to me, we could-”

Malkoran grimaced. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments. The heart must be donated by an unworthy human, remember? How are _you_ unworthy?”

“I killed an innocent man,” Walden said. “A good man.”

“And I’ve killed thousands of them. I’ve enslaved people. I’ve raped women – no, _girls_. I’ve plundered and burned down villages. Do you need more reasons proving that I'm less worthy than you are?”

Ramesses had never heard his Alpha speak this way. Malkoran was usually poised and soft-spoken, never sarcastic.

Walden seemed about to retort, but his wife spoke over him. "Wal, stop trying to come up with something to add to your résumé. It's not a dick-measuring contest, for Merlin's sake."

“Well, sounds good to me,” Anubis said, rubbing his hands. Ramesses started; he’d almost forgotten that the god was here. “I don’t blame you. I’m very forgettable. Unlike dear old dad,” he sneered.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Walden told Ramesses. “They can read your mind.”

“Alright, enough with the chit-chat, humans,” Anubis said. “Do you want to do this or not? I don’t have all… Mm, actually, poor choice of words, I do have all day. But I’m getting bored.”

Evangeline hesitated, looking at Malkoran. “If you’re sure…”

The Alpha nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Onwards to the Hall of Two Truths, then,” Anubis said. “We’ll go my way, it’s much faster. Brace yourselves.”

* * *

The scales of justice. Walden stared at them in reverence, but not for long; he was interrupted by another coughing spell. He didn’t breathe, but some sand had gotten stuck in his throat and it was uncomfortable. Travelling by sandstorm was just as bad as travelling with Hades, though he wasn’t quite as dizzy as he’d felt earlier.

“That was…unnecessarily unpleasant,” Evey said, her voice laced with reproach. Her hair was indescribably messy. Walden would have teased her about it, if she wasn't so irritated already. Tony would have teased her regardless, Walden knew. Then again, Evey never got mad at _him_. “We could have just walked, you know.”

Anubis ignored her. “Let’s get on with it. Here’s the feather.” It appeared out of thin air and landed lightly on the scales. “Now we need to weigh it against the heart.”

Malkoran stepped forward and began to unbutton his shirt. “Take it.”

Anubis sighed in annoyance. “I can’t, you idiot. You're alive; I’m not allowed to harm you. It’s against the rules.”

“But it will not harm me,” Malkoran insisted. “Not permanently, anyway.”

“Can’t you do it yourself?” Walden asked. Evey threw him a withering look. Why, he had no idea. It was a perfectly rational suggestion. Mal had done this before, after all.

“I will do it, Alpha, if you’ll allow me,” Ramesses offered.

“Yes, thank you, old friend.”

The Wolf’s hand turned into a wickedly-clawed paw and ripped Mal’s heart out of his chest in one smooth gesture. There was no love lost between Walden and the Alpha, but it was still shocking to witness. Evey let out a little gasp, despite the hand pressed against her mouth. Walden put his good arm around her shoulders.

Malkoran’s eyes bulged, and he fell to the ground, apparently lifeless. Evey, of course, ran to him. Walden did his best to ignore this and watched as Ramesses deposited his Alpha’s bloody heart on the scales.

Nothing happened. The scales remained as they were before – the heart and the feather were perfectly balanced.

As nothing continued to happen, Walden turned his eyes on Anubis. “How long does it take?”

Improbable as it seemed, the god looked…perturbed. His animal ears were twitching. “Um, it should… I mean, it’s been a while, but the result is usually instantaneous. Maybe the tare is faulty…” He moved closer and leaned forward to inspect the scales.

Meanwhile, Evey was helping Mal up, though he didn’t look like he needed it. He was steady on his feet. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should lie down a little while longer.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. He was scowling at his own heart. Well, the old one. “But I don’t understand. Why is it not going down?”

“Perhaps you’re not as unworthy as you think, Alpha,” Ramesses suggested. “You’ve done a lot of good in your life. After the Lady Ellessin left you, you changed. You sought to better yourself. You’ve aided the mortals in many ways over a long period of time – you have built hospitals, fed the hungry, sheltered the poor... You prevented quite a few conflicts, as well, and ended others.”

Evey was wearing a smug expression, the one Walden referred to as her I-told-you-so face.

“Don’t give me that look,” Mal said. “Whether or not there’s something wrong with the scales – and I think there is – we’re in a pickle. We don’t have a heart to present to Ammit.”

That wiped off the smugness. “What about…” She glanced at Walden and quickly dismissed him, then at Ramesses. “I don’t suppose he’s…”

“Not even close,” Mal said firmly. “And neither are you.”

“There is nothing wrong with the sacred scales of justice,” a deep voice intoned.

Brilliant, just what they needed. Another god.

“Yeah, um, if I were you, I’d be careful how I address this one,” Anubis advised him.

Walden turned toward the apparition. He looked like a man (a really tall man), but his skin was green. He was holding a crook and a flail, which allowed Walden to connect him with a name: Osiris. Or Ozzy, to his godly friends.

“’Friend’ is not a term I would use in regard to Hades,” Osiris remarked. Ugh, that bloody mind-reading. The god examined the scales. “What seems to be the problem?”

“The scales are stuck or something,” Anubis said.

Osiris made a weird gesture with his hands. “They are not. They work perfectly, as always.”

“But it’s never done that before!” Anubis exclaimed. “Sometimes it’s just a hair's breadth, sure, but the heart is never _exactly_ level with the feather, Uncle.”

“It is now,” Osiris said simply.

“But what does it mean?” Evey demanded. Her manners towards the gods still left much to be desired. “Is Mal worthy or unworthy?”

“Both,” Osiris answered. “And neither.”

“That’s not helpful at all,” she muttered.

“V… Remember who you’re talking to, love.”

“I don’t care, okay?” she said much more loudly. “I just watched my friend have his heart clawed out of his chest, and for nothing! My _other_ friends have been gone for weeks and I have no idea if they’re even alive. I’m tired of this enigmatic bullshit. The End is nigh, we’re all gonna die, Mal’s worthiness is impossible to determine…”

“Hey, that almost rhymed,” Anubis said with a wolfish grin.

Walden held his wife back before she could slap the god senseless – or try to.

So Malkoran did it instead.

He leaped at Anubis, using all of the strength and velocity of his beastly alter-ego without actually transforming, and he slapped the god right in the face.

Anubis must have been too shocked to prevent it, because no matter how fast and strong the Alpha may be, it shouldn’t have been possible. Gods were all-powerful. Osiris merely looked on, his face utterly expressionless. Ramesses murmured some words in a language that even Walden didn’t understand.

Evey stopped trying to get out of Walden’s grip and let out a loud “HA!”

Anubis put a hand to his furry cheek. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again and remained that way for a long time.

Osiris nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, it seems that your scheme was fruitful, Cursed One. Look,” he said, pointing to the scales. The heart was ever so slightly below the feather.

Malkoran bowed his head. “I couldn’t think of anything else. My apologies,” he told Anubis, who was still gaping at him in speechless outrage.

“Well,” Osiris declared. “Judgement has been passed. The feather has deemed thee unworthy. Your heart shall now be consumed by Ammit and you will be denied immortality in my realm. Your soul shall-”

“Um…” Evey interrupted him awkwardly. “Sir, that’s not why we’re here. We just need Ammit to lick the heart.”

There was a pause. “Pardon me?” Osiris said eventually. “Did you say…‘lick’?”

“Uh-huh. It’s an ingredient for this elixir we’re brewing. A very special elixir.”

Osiris sighed deeply. “Not this again,” he grumbled. He didn’t sound quite so mighty and godly, all of a sudden. He sounded like a tired old man. “Is my brother involved in this? Did the Flamel woman summon him again?”

“Your brother?” Evey said.

“The god Set,” Ramesses whispered to her.

“ _Former_ god,” Osiris corrected him. “He was demoted eons ago. Otherwise Pernelle would not have been able to summon him to do her dark bidding.”

“Ugh, I bet that’s why he contacted us earlier,” Anubis said. “He was trying to cause a distraction, to trick us again. Pretending to be helping humans wandering the Demon Realm. What a preposterous-”

“Humans wandering the Demon Realm?” Evey took two steps forward. “Three of them? Looking for a mortal? Are they alright?” Her voice rose as she reached the last question.

“Indeed,” Osiris said. “I did not ask if they were…alright, as you say, but they were alive, at least.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Evey murmured. Walden sensed her relief and felt the same; until then, he hadn’t realised how worried he was about his brother. Not for the first time since they’d left Scotland, he wished that Tony were here.

“You’re welcome,” Anubis said with a canine smirk. “But we had nothing to do with it, I can assure you. If they’re alive, it’s because _he_ wants them alive, and knowing the scheming bastard, I’m not entirely sure that’s a good thing.”

“You mean Set?”

“No, the other one.” Anubis scoffed. “Well, I suppose there are plenty of those in the Demon Realm. Let’s call him the scheming bastard in chief.”

“And who-”

“Enough about my father, enough with the questions,” Anubis said. “Do you want this heart licked or not?”

“Yes, we do,” Walden said. Then, trying to make up for Evey’s lack of manners: “Please.”

“And if we do you this small favour, you’ll leave and never come back?”

“I might come back,” Ramesses said in a small voice.

Anubis rolled his eyes, but Osiris was nodding. “Of course you will. You belong here, pharaoh.” He turned to the jackal-headed god. “Fetch Ammit, would you?” Anubis vanished, leaving only a cloud of sand where he’d stood a moment ago.

When he returned, less than five seconds later, he was accompanied by the infamous goddess, who looked exactly like Walden had imagined her: the head of a crocodile, the front section of a lion and the bottom of a hippopotamus. She was not as large as he’d expected, but that could be explained by the slim pickings of the past millennia.

Apparently, Anubis and Ammit were arguing, but not in English, nor in any language that Walden was familiar with. After a while, Osiris spoke up, his voice resonating in the Hall of Two Truths as if he’d used an Amplifying Charm. It was only one word, but it shut up the other two. “Ammit, do as you are told.” She complied reluctantly, her eyes blazing with hunger as she licked Mal’s heart. Walden felt a wave of nausea at the sight. “Anubis, you will now take our guests back where they belong. There is no need to bother Hades. Farewell, humans. Enjoy the precious little time you have left.”


	22. The birds and the bees

“So…you’re Fenrir, uh?” Tony said into the silence that followed the demon’s return to his human-like shape. “The real one.”

Fenrir scowled. His eyes, initially a silvery grey, were now honey gold. “What, you believed that this sack of meat here was the real deal?” He scoffed, his left thumb pointing at Greyback.

Tony shook his head. “No, of course not. Um…why is Greyback here, anyway? Do Wolves end up in your…care, when they die?” If so, Jeanne may be somewhere in Pandemonium, too, despite what Lilith claimed.

“This silly cub is an exception,” Fenrir said. “He dared impersonate me. He took my name. For that crime, he must be punished with eternal suffering. His grisly soul should have finished its course in the Immortal Plane, but I fished it out.”

The Immortal Plane. That must be where Jeanne was. “How does one get to-”

The demon displayed his razor-sharp fangs. “But enough about that idiot. I heard that one of my Wolves had made it into the Homeland, a live one, but the reason for your presence is unclear. Something about a…misplaced mortal?” His gaze was set on Ted, as though he was the only one worth talking to.

Tony glanced at Ted, who gestured for him to explain. The former pirate seemed to shrivel under Fenrir’s fearsome gaze. “We’re looking for a mortal, yes. A wizard.” Tony produced his photo of Sirius and handed it to Fenrir.

The demon studied it attentively. Then he laughed, so loudly that the earth rumbled again. “That can't be a coincidence,” he commented.

“Why? You know him? You know where he is?” the Ripper demanded. “Because I’m getting tired of being misdirected on purpose. This place sucks. Why is no one trying to kill us? Are you the one who commanded the others not to harm us?”

Fenrir eyed her with a wolfish smile. “That’s a lot of questions all at once, Miss Dawkins.”

_Uh-oh._

There was silence again. The Ripper gaped at the demon in shock. Ted and Tony exchanged a look. She wouldn’t try to attack a greater demon, surely? Especially this one. Surely.

“That’s not… How did you… You _fucking_ …!” the Ripper sputtered in outrage. One of her daggers was out, Tony noticed.

“Don’t mind him, lass,” Ted said soothingly, laying a hand on her shoulder. “He’s just trying to goad you. Don’t worry, we’ve already forgotten what he called you.”

The Ripper glowered at the Wolf, then at Fenrir, then at Tony. “I do not want to hear that name ever again. From _any_ of you,” she spat at the demon. “Is that clear?”

Tony and Ted agreed without hesitation, and Fenrir nodded solemnly. “As you wish, Renée.”

Tony barely had time to register what was happening. The Ripper threw herself at Fenrir, daggers flashing. Ted, despite his enhanced reflexes, missed pulling her backwards by half an inch. She should have landed right on top of the demon, but Fenrir simply vanished from where he was standing. The Ripper somersaulted in the air and landed in a crouch. An instant later, she was on her feet again and scanning her surroundings.

Fenrir reappeared besides Tony, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his handsome face. “Impressive. Set and Abaddon both sang your praises, and I see that they were not exaggerating. You’d make a magnificent demon, little vampire. You could have your own realm by the turn of the human century, if you put your mind to it.”

Was he trying to _recruit_ the Ripper? Was this how demons became demons? Were they all humans, once? “I know what you’re thinking,” Fenrir said when he saw the look on Tony’s face, “and the answer is…yes and no. Lesser demons spawn from the Broodmother, all of them, but we Great Ones are raised by the Master. Some of us started at the bottom of the ladder. I was merely a pup, once… But of course, it helps that I’m-”

“Broodmother?” Tony repeated. He hadn't registered a single word after that.

Fenrir smiled crookedly. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.” Tony did believe him. He was desperately trying to ward off the images that assailed his mind: a huge, bloated creature whelping demon babies, one after the other. Yikes.

“Who is this bloody Master?” Ted looked as shaken as the Ripper, who hadn’t let go of her daggers and was still obviously trying to figure out how to take down Fenrir.

The question seemed to take Fenrir aback. “You truly don’t know?”

“If we did, we wouldn’t ask, now would we?” Ted retorted. He was pissed off, alright. Tony had never seen him like that.

Fenrir shook his head in bewilderment. “Let me get this straight: you came looking for some random mortal in the place you name Pandemonium, which is infinite and deadly, even to your kind, armed only with a photograph and two butter knives?”

“I have seven daggers concealed on my person,” the Ripper growled. “And believe me, they’re quite sharp.”

“That’s cute, but it seems to me that you came underprepared,” Fenrir noted. “Severely so.”

“We did,” Tony admitted. “But time was of the essence.”

“The Master must have known that. He commanded us to make certain that you eventually reached him alive and in one piece, but he also said that there was no hurry and that we could do whatever we wanted to mislead you.”

“How nice of him,” Ted said. “How do we reach him, then? Because I’m bloody done stumbling from one realm to the other and falling into crazy portals and dealing with you fucking lot.”

“Patience, young padawan,” Fenrir said with a grin. Dear gods, they really did watch TV here, didn’t they? Tony couldn’t figure out how it was possible, but most things he’d seen in Pandemonium so far didn’t seem possible. “I will lead you to Him, but you must answer a question first.”

“It better not be a riddle,” the Ripper warned him. “I’m all out of patience.”

Fenrir ignored her and addressed Tony instead. “How fares the girl? Are you any closer to claiming her for yourself? I have to say, I have no idea why you decided to turn your brother. You should have taken advantage of my-”

“The girl?” Tony interrupted him. He didn’t like where this was going. He would have preferred a riddle.

Fenrir raised an eyebrow. “You know. Evangeline. Your soulmate?”

The Ripper buried her face in her hands, the very image of despair. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Not this again,” she murmured. “Lilith, help me.” Ted patted her on the back, sighing in sympathy.

Well, Tony was getting tired of this, too. “She’s _not_ my bloody soulmate! Stop saying that!”

Fenrir sneered. “Of course she is. Why do you think that we specifically chose you two?”

“She’s in love with my brother! How many times do I have to-”

“So what? Humans fall in love all the time, and rarely even lay eyes on their soulmate. When they do, however, it’s expected that they end up together, sooner rather than later… Perhaps our timing was wrong.” He was speaking in a low voice, as if talking to himself.

“What do you mean when you say you _chose_ them?” Ted asked. Tony frowned, then realised that it was a very good question. “Chose them for what?”

“To bring the Wolves and Ancients together, you nitwit,” Fenrir replied with exaggerated patience. Or, more likely, condescension. “Vampires and werewolves, united under your respective leaders, ruling the world as one, as you were always meant to do.”

“Poppycock,” the Ripper said. “We despise the Wolves, and they return the feeling.” Ted gave her a hurt look, which she ignored. “That’s how it’s always been.”

“How do you even know about Evey?” Tony demanded.

“Know about her? We _made_ her, you fool. Honestly, after all these human millennia, you’d think that Mal and his floozy would have made peace and finally understood, but no, Her Highness Ellessin is too good for my cub,” he said with a grimace. “We _had_ to do something. Lilith sent Jeanne to that hellish magical prison on some pretend job, knowing that she would notice you, and hopefully turn you, and I sent Greyback Evangeline’s way.”

“ _You_ did that?” Tony said. He’d tried to remain polite until then, even in his anger, but now he heard the coldness in his own tone. “You’re responsible for her family’s murder?” He eyed the Ripper’s daggers; depending on how Fenrir answered that question, he figured he might use them himself.

Fenrir hesitated. “Well, that wasn’t part of the plan,” he said defensively. “Greyback was only supposed to bite the girl and begin the hybridisation process. Then that wizardly gang would take her in, and she would meet you, and you’d….” He trailed off, huffing in annoyance. “Obviously, things didn’t work out as planned. Your brother ruined everything, stole your soulmate from right under your nose. You were supposed to be the one she fell for. How could we have predicted that she’d pick the mortal, one-armed weakling?” He shook his head. “Humans are so weird. There’s simply no making sense of you, you chaotic little creatures.”

“But how could you know that Jeanne would allow me to return home? That we’d join the Order? _Why_ did you do any of that, anyway? What do you want from us?”

Fenrir gave him a flat look. “Because that was the _plan_. We only had a few shots at this, and you were the most likely bunch to succeed. Your world was very promising.” He started pacing. “An immortal, invincible breed of werewolves and vampires? You were created to rule the universe! It was your destiny! The human race is weak, it’s meant to be crushed under the weight of your dominance. Honestly, why else would we have bothered to make you in the first place? You think we were just fooling around? You think we pay attention to every blood sacrifice, and reward every wannabe summoner with immortality and unlimited power? And that ungrateful minx squandered it all, simply because my cub had _one_ meaningless fling… You are _such_ a disappointment. Nay, a disgrace.”

Tony wasn’t following everything. He assumed that Fenrir was talking about Malkoran and the Bloodmother, but the demon’s thoughts were too scattered; his rant made little sense.

Also…rule the universe? Talk about delusions of grandeur. He sounded just like Greyback.

Fenrir must have read his mind. “I condemn some of Greyback’s actions, but at least he was doing something to live up to our expectations. Just like his maker before him.”

Ted looked like he was about to enquire about something – Grigori Rasputin’s fate, perhaps – but the demon continued talking.

“I can’t allow this experiment to turn into a complete failure. We’ve sacrificed too much. It’s not for lack of trying! We’ve never involved ourselves in human affairs before, not like this. We did everything we could to get the plan back on tracks. I even possessed that…Death Eater, is that the word? You know, the one who killed your brother. I haven’t possessed anyone in _centuries_. Not since Nero.” He smiled faintly, as though he was remembering good times.

Tony itched to use his wand, but he knew that magic wouldn’t harm the demon. “Are you saying that you’re responsible for Walden’s death?” This, plus Evey’s family… This demon was easily the most demonic they’d met so far.

Fenrir waved the question aside as if it were an irksome fly. “And now the girl and your brother are married, and the Oracle only knows when she’ll be yours. There’s no way of knowing how long your brother will live,” he said wistfully. “Could be half a millennia, or more, for all we know.”

“Why does it matter?” Tony insisted. Fenrir had mentioned a plan and an experiment, but what was this all really about? “Why do you care if I’m with Evey or not? Why’s it so important to you?”

Fenrir sniffed. “It shouldn’t be important, but you people are stubborn and ignorant and you refuse to acknowledge each other’s existence…” he said. “Well, until now, that is. Teaming up at last. I guess that the plan is finally underway, though the circumstances are not those we anticipated.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you told us exactly what you had in mind? Spell it for us, if we’re so bloody ignorant,” the Ripper said. “World domination is out of the question, you know. I’m sure a few of us could be convinced to go for it, but overall we’re quite content to live our own lives individually. We don’t care about the humans, and they don’t know about us. We leave each other alone, and everyone’s content.”

“Such a waste of potential,” Fenrir muttered. “Can’t you _at least_ reproduce? Otherwise we went through all that trouble for naught.”

“If you wanted us to reproduce,” the Ripper said through gritted fangs, “you should have made us capable of doing so.”

“My, you really _are_ dense,” Fenrir said. “You can’t mate with the humans, obviously. How could they ever hope to match your glory? Reproducing among your own kind is equally impossible, because what would be the point? There are dozens of people with the spark, if you were willing to turn more than the occasional person…” Tony could hear the reproach in the demon’s voice. “But you can mate with _each other_. Wolves and Ancients. As it was meant to be.”

The Ripper and Ted happened to glance at each other after that revelation; the Wolf turned a bright shade of crimson, and the Ripper quickly averted her gaze. It took Tony a moment to notice that Fenrir was still talking.

“…a proper hybrid, just like the girl! You can create that. You always had the ability, but Mal and that bitch fell apart, and the entire system collapsed… Talk about the butterfly effect. One tiny mistake, and thousands of years wasted as a result…”

The Ripper hissed at the use of the B-word in regard to the Bloodmother, but Tony was confused. “It doesn’t make sense. Malkoran and the Mother…they were together for quite some time, before Mal’s blunder, and they never had children.”

“They were born that way. Barren, the both of them. We could have fixed that, but they had to be punished, you see. I mean, we chose to reward their boldness, because it suited us at the time, but there’s always a part of punishment for daring to summon the gods. They don’t appreciate being summoned. They have to delegate demons to answer the call for them, and it’s an annoyance to everyone. Especially to the demons, but the gods don’t care about that,” Fenrir said dryly. “Besides, what you say is not entirely true. _You_ are their children. And if they’d been more proactive over the years, they could have assembled an army of you. I never understood why you were so elitist about your recruits. Fame and infamy don’t make a person worthy of receiving the gift. The spark does. Being turned transcends everyone, regardless of gender, ethnicity, wealth or social status.”

Tony’s brain was trying to process everything it was hearing, but it was having difficulty. To be fair, it was a lot of information to take in.

“Take Renée, for example,” Fenrir continued. “She was nothing. She had nothing. And now look at her! She’s the most glorious specimen of surface dwellers.”

“Yeah, good for her,” Tony cut in, “but back to Evey and the topic of…reproduction. What do you mean, exactly? That she can…procreate with both Wolves and Ancients? Is that why you-”

“Yes,” Fenrir enunciated with care, as though explaining something to a young child. “That’s the whole point of her. She was meant to be the missing link, since you were too dumb to figure out procreation on your own. Ugh, I can’t believe I’m giving you the birds and bees talk,” he said, rubbing his face with both hands.

“What about Walden?” Tony went on, ignoring Fenrir’s complains. “Can they-”

“No,” Fenrir replied sharply. “He doesn’t have enough Ancient genes. She’s completely out of his league, as you humans say. They won’t be able to produce anything, mortal or otherwise. That’s why it would be best if you just got rid of him and took matters into your own hands. You could impregnate the girl and-”

“I’m not going to…impregnate her,” Tony said in a weak voice.

“Whyever not? You love her. You’re meant to be with her. The mortal is entirely superfluous in this story. He serves no purpose.”

Tony was about to try and strangle him, no matter how easily Fenrir could swat him away, but the Ripper spoke up. “Leave the fledgling alone. We care naught for your schemes, demon. There was a major flaw in your plan from the beginning: you created human beings, not brainless demon spawn. We’re our own people. We don’t answer to you, and we’ll do what we bloody want with our lives.” She placed her hands on her hips, a sure sign that it was time to wrap up the small talk. Tony had a million more questions for Fenrir, but he knew better than to contradict the Ripper, especially when she was defending him. “Now take us to your Master, or I will destroy every lesser demon in sight and the Broodmother will _not_ be happy at the sudden work overload.”


	23. Better to reign in the Underworld than serve in Olympus

Estelle plunged Malkoran’s obsolete heart in a crystal vase filled with unspoken water. Of course, the French woman was not aware that it was Mal’s heart. They’d kept their trip to the Duat a secret, as planned, and Estelle had not been as inquisitive as usual. She had not questioned Evey when V had told her that it had indeed been licked by Ammit the Devourer. Despite her curiosity, she was a practical woman. She knew that, the fewer questions she asked, the more likely she was to get what she wanted.

Besides, Walden suspected that she already knew a lot more than she let on.

“ _Voilà_ ,” Estelle announced as she sprinkled mammoth dandruff over the vase. “ _Ce sera prêt dans une semaine. Après cela, on pourra réellement commencer à préparer l’élixir._ ”

Evey grimaced when she heard the woman speak French, but Walden took the initiative to translate before she could complain about it. “The heart must soak in the water for a week, then we can start brewing the elixir.”

Estelle nodded, and graciously went on in English. “It should take us about ten days to complete it, provided that you manage to bring back the rest of the ingredients. And then…well, we’ll have to wait for a thunderstorm to put the finishing touch.”

“Why do all complicated potions depend on the whims of the weather?” Evey complained. She was certainly referring to the complex process of becoming an Animagus – the potion had to be consumed during a thunderstorm.

“Well, if you happen to meet Thor in Valhalla, you can ask him to send us one when the time comes.” Estelle spoke casually, as if this were a perfectly mundane thing to say. Walden knew it was her way of prying – she affected to be utterly uninterested, in the hope that someone would forget she wasn’t privy to their secrets and would accidentally let something juicy slip. She was, of course, particularly interested in anything that concerned the Norse warriors’ afterlife, since this was where the ingredient she desperately yearned for was likely to be found.

“Ugh, for the hundredth time, yes, we will find you that damned feather,” Evey grumbled. They hadn’t yet heard from Erik Thorvaldsson, but Mal was going to give him a call as soon as they returned from their next journey: the Underworld, Hades’s lair.

_“It’s not a lair_ ,” someone said inside Walden’s head. “ _I’m not a comic book supervillain, you know.”_

Walden turned around, certain that Hades had materialised in Estelle’s basement while she was still here, but the god wasn’t there.

_“Of course I’m not there in the flesh. Do you have any idea what that psychopath would do if she saw me?”_

Was he talking about Estelle?

_“Obviously. She’s the only psychopath in the room.”_ There was a pause. _“You’re not intelligent enough to be a psychopath.”_

Walden decided to take that as a compliment.

_“It wasn’t intended as one.”_

“This is really annoying, you know,” Walden muttered. Everyone in the basement turned to look at him.

“What’s annoying?” Estelle wanted to know.

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “I mean…waiting around for the ingredients to soak and macerate is annoying.”

Estelle handed him a kitchen knife. “If you’re bored, you can help me dice some-”

_“Come out, then. I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”_

“Er, sorry, no, we have to go, actually.” He gave his wife a pointed look.

Evey frowned. “Now? Why?”

Walden was wondering the same thing. For one thing, Hades had told them to be ready around two in the morning and it was barely midnight. For another, he usually contacted Evey directly. Why was he using Walden as an intermediary now?

_“Because your wife is quite excitable and therefore more prone to answering aloud than you are,”_ Hades said. _“Or so I thought.”_

“Our, um, appointment has been brought forward. Come on, let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

Estelle sighed. “You’re terrible houseguests, you know that, right? I spent an hour cooking for us and now you have to leave early.”

Evey glanced at the crystal vase that contained Malkoran’s heart. “Yeah…I’m not hungry, thanks.”

“There’s a _quiche lorraine_ in the fridge,” Estelle insisted. “I just need to preheat the oven…”

Evey glanced at Walden, suddenly interested. She probably had no idea what that dish was, but she’d tasted Estelle’s cuisine. If she was as good a potioneer as she was a cook, the elixir was certain to work. “Are we really in a hurry? Because I could eat.” She could always eat. Her metabolism was a frightening thing and she took advantage of it every chance she got.

“ _Tell her we have blueberry pie at home,_ ” Hades said.

“There’ll be food where we’re going, V. Estelle, I’m sorry, but this is important.”

Evey’s face was a moue of disappointment. “Hold a piece of the…keesh whatever for me,” she told Estelle as she grabbed her wand and headed for the stairs. Malkoran didn’t say anything as he followed Evey. He’d been even less chatty than usual, these past few days.

“Don’t forget my feather,” Estelle reminded Walden as he went after the others.

He shook his head. “That’s not where we’re… I mean, we’re retrieving another ingredient tonight, Estelle. Thanks for cooking. We’ll do the quiche justice as soon as we come back.”

* * *

Malkoran had hoped that, since he’d already travelled with Hades once, the second time would not make him nauseous but, if anything, it was even worse. He dry-heaved a few times and was glad not to have ingested any food before leaving.

“This looks like the inside of a…Victorian manor house,” Evangeline noted. “Why? That’s not very…Greek.”

“You realise that I’m not Greek, right? I’m a god. I have no human nationality.” Hades was seated in a leather high-backed chair near a cosy fireplace, Malkoran saw when he finally felt that he could stand upright without being sick. He had to admit that this was not how he’d pictured the Underworld.

Hades chuckled. “You see what I want you to see, Wolf. If you could perceive my home in its true form, it would break your mind. That’s also why I appear to you as a man, instead of a-”

“Oh my stars, they’re _here_!” someone exclaimed. A woman’s voice.

Hades’s face went blank just as the aforementioned woman walked into the room. Unlike Hades, she did look Greek: her skin was olive, her dark hair long and wavy. Her brown eyes shone with excitement and she wore a bright, welcoming smile. “They’re here, they’re here!” she squealed, clapping her hands.

“Honey, you’re…early,” Hades said. “I thought-”

“Oh, I know, it’s way too early for me to be back, dear, but I simply couldn’t resist. I _had_ to see them.”

She moved toward Evangeline, who looked a bit stunned, and held her by the shoulders. She was at least a foot taller than the girl. “Look at you! So tiny and adorable!” She pinched Evangeline’s cheek. “Aw, darling, you were right, she’s precious.”

Hades looked like he wished he could disappear. Being a god, Malkoran was certain that he could, if he wanted to, but something was holding him back, it seemed.

The woman – Mal surmised that she was Persephone – turned to Walden. “Ooh, those mesmerising eyes. How did _that_ happen? Is it a medical condition? And that amazing prosthesis! Hades told me all about it, of course, but I have to admit, I was reluctant to believe it. Such craftmanship! Your brother is a true artist.”

Walden was staring at her, eyes wide. “Er…”

Before he could come up with any sort of response, Persephone approached Mal. She didn’t look quite so excited now, but she did something equally puzzling: she embraced him. Her hair smelled of springtime.

“ _Don’t smell my wife’s hair,”_ Hades warned him via telepathy.

“You poor thing,” Persephone commiserated. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better. I’m sure that your Ellessin will come to her senses. Love always triumphs.”

“Thank you,” Mal said. He didn’t know what else to say. “My lady.”

Persephone released him. “Aw, aren’t you the cutest? Darling, did you hear that? He called me ‘my lady’.” She glanced at her husband, giggling.

“Yes, I heard, dear. Um-”

“I’m Persephone, by the way,” she told the three of them. “But you guessed that already.” There was the tiniest pause. “Darling, did you not offer our guests some refreshments?” The reproach in her voice was playful, Mal noted. She knew her husband, knew his strengths and failings, and she loved him for both. “Do you want tea? Maybe some nectar?”

“I don’t think that-”

“Oh, no, silly me. You can’t drink that, it would kill you. Tea it is, then! I’ll be right back.”

She vanished, leaving the four of them staring at the empty air. The sudden silence was deafening.

“Yes, thank you, I know how beautiful she is, Kane,” Hades said.

“And…vivacious,” Evangeline added out loud.

Hades sighed. “She is.”

“Opposites do attract…” Walden remarked with a sly smile.

“Look, she wasn’t supposed to be here. Can we go about our business now? The sooner you leave, the better.”

“Here’s the tea!” Persephone announced. She waltzed in, carrying a tray of steaming mugs. She’d been gone all of thirty seconds but, being a goddess, she didn’t need to wait for the water to boil. She simply willed it. “And we have some biscuits. I promise, I double-checked to make sure these weren’t Spot’s treats.”

Right, Spot, the three-headed dog known as Cerberus in mythology, fearsome guardian of the Underworld.

“Is he here?” Evangeline asked. “Spot, I mean.”

“Aw, you miss your pet, don’t you? Nana, is it? Don’t worry, she’s fine,” Persephone said as she handed her a cup of tea. “I told Hades to check in on her regularly. I can’t abide for a dog to be lonely.” She whistled, so low that Mal was probably the only one who could hear it, and it wasn’t long before Spot joined the party.

Much like the Underworld itself, the infamous dog was not quite what Mal expected.

“There’s my good boy!” Persephone said in that grating baby-talk mortals so often used to address pets (and babies). The poodle-sized pet yipped at its owner, one head at a time, tail waggling.

Evangeline smelled disappointed, though she did her best to conceal it. “He’s…smaller than I thought he would be,” she said.

“Oh, you prefer large dogs, yes?” Persephone made a bizarre hand gesture. “Spot, grow!”

A second later, the dog was the size of a buffalo. Evangeline brightened. “That’s more like it,” she murmured. “Can I pet it?” Persephone nodded.

Hades tried to get everyone back on tracks. “This is no social call. You’re on a mission. Get your Styx water and then you can be on your way.”

“But darling! We never get visitors,” Persephone protested.

“Yeah, there’s no hurry,” Evangeline said. She was trying to pet all of Spot’s heads at once, a futile endeavour considering that she only had two hands. “The Styx has been around since forever, it’ll still be there in five minutes. Don’t get all fiery-hair on us, Hades.”

“Fiery-hair?” the god repeated, eyes narrowed. “Oh, bother. You watched the movie, didn’t you?”

“Uh-huh, several times. It’s brilliant,” Evangeline commented. She glanced at Persephone. “Um, except for one glaring…omission.”

The goddess laughed softly. “I’m not offended. People always forget about me. And despite the wrongful characterisation of my husband, I, too, thought it was brilliant. I like Meg. And the songs…”

“I know!” Evangeline exclaimed. “They’re _so_ entertaining. I often catch myself humming along to _The_ _Gospel Truth_ when I’m in the shower.”

Malkoran was unsure how it happened, but an instant later the two women were singing together. For once, Walden and he were in agreement; he could read it in his eyes when they exchanged a baffled look.

“Memo to me,” Hades murmured. “Maim whoever came up with these lyrics after the meeting.”

Walden chuckled. “Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Apparently, the god took it as a challenge and began enumerating everything that was bad about…the movie. Malkoran, of course, had no idea what they were talking about. “They use everyone’s Greek name except for Hercules, aka the main character. I don’t sound like James Woods at all. The planets cannot align. No potion in the world can make a god or even a demigod mortal, and don’t even get me started on Zeus and Hera…”

“Are you sure about the potion?” Evey interrupted him. Thankfully, she’d stopped singing; her voice was not quite as delightful as Persephone’s. “I wouldn’t put it past Estelle to brew something to that very effect.”

“That’s a good point,” Hades admitted.

“And honestly, though it’s obvious that Zeus or Hera should have been the main villain, I thought you were…relatable. Like many fictional villains, in truth.”

“And they nailed your sarcastic, cynical attitude,” Walden added.

Evey nodded energetically. “Yeah, it’s uncanny, it’s like they’ve actually met you.”

Malkoran was still confused. There was a movie about Hades? Maybe it was a documentary of sort. He would investigate when he returned home. Well, when he returned to Scotland, that was. He had no home to speak of.

“Alright, that’s quite enough of this,” Hades barked. “Darling, will you keep the girl entertained while the lads fetch what they need at the river? Clumsy as she is, she might fall in the Styx.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Evangeline enquired. “Wouldn’t it make me…even more invincible?”

Hades and Persephone looked at each other, sharing that secret smile that only people who have been together for a long time can share. “Boys, come along now. Let the ladies talk about…clothes and whatnot.”

“Oh, my sweet, deluded little god,” Evangeline said. “We’re obviously going to talk about you behind your back.”

“There’s no talking behind my back, Kane,” Hades warned her. “I hear all.”

Persephone made a shooing motion at the men. “Off with you, then. It’s been ages since I’ve enjoyed a conversation with a human being, so take your time.”

* * *

They didn’t take their time. Evey barely asked three questions before the guys returned. _May I have a Cerberus puppy if Spot ever has one?_ The answer was yes, but Persephone explained that it may not happen for another hundred years or more.

_Do other gods take interest in human affairs?_ Persephone had eluded that one, claiming that she had little contact with her peers, except for her husband. Evey hadn’t dared call the goddess a liar, but it was obvious that Persephone was not telling the truth, or not all of it.

And finally, _Can you see into Pandemonium?_

She knew from Osiris that Tony, Ted and the Ripper had been spotted alive, but she preferred to check in regularly. They must be facing dangerous demons. Something dire could happen to them at any moment. Persephone had shaken her head. _Not unless I contact a demon directly,_ she’d said, _but that’s only for punishing humans, in case they attempt to summon us._

Oh well. At least Evey knew that Nana was doing fine without them. She was still eager to go home, though. She didn’t belong in Paris – in fact, she felt more at home here in the Underworld than she did in the French capital. Persephone was nicer than Estelle, too, and she spoke in English.

“Not a single personal question about me,” Hades said when he came back. “I don’t know if I should feel insulted or relieved.”

“Give me two more minutes and I’ll make sure to get your measurements,” she replied teasingly.

Persephone blushed, which was surprising. Evey didn’t know that godly beings could blush. “Oh, I wouldn’t have answered _that_ question.”

Walden cleared his throat. “We should go, yeah? We have the water.”

“Good idea! There’s an unpronounceable French dish waiting for me,” Evey concurred.

Persephone’s shoulders slumped. “I hope you know that you’re welcome here any time.”

Hades snorted. “Sure, as soon as you learn how to teleport between existential planes, feel free to join us for tea.” His wife threw him a reproachful look. “What? I’m not their chauffeur!”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Evey said. “You come up for tea at our place whenever you want. It’s not as dark and gloomy and full of dead people, and we usually have pie.”

“You’re never going to relent with the Disney references, are you?” Hades asked wearily.

Evey grinned. “Probably not. It’ll never not be funny.” She turned to Persephone. “I mean it. Any time.”

The goddess smiled warmly. “I thank you for the invitation. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed.”

Not _allowed_? Evey glared at Hades. “That’s hardly fair! You visit us all the bloody time!”

“Hey, don’t look at me! There are rules that govern us all, Kane. I don’t make ‘em.”

“Who does, then? Zeus?”

Persephone shook her head. “It’s all quite complicated, dear. I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to explain it all to you in great detail, but there’s a Council of gods…”

Oh, that had to be the famous Council that the sphinx had mentioned in the Duat.

“Yes, precisely. But you see-”

“Um, darling, I don’t mean to be rude, but there are also strict rules regarding not revealing certain things to the humans, remember?”

“But it’s _Evey_!” Persephone exclaimed. “The Prophecy-”

“No matter how special she may be,” Hades interrupted her, “she’s still human. Sort of.”

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Evey said, though she made a note of everything she’d heard. What prophecy? Exactly how special was she, if even the gods thought her so? And that Council again… Who presided over it? Were Persephone and Hades a part of it?

“Let’s take you back where you belong,” Hades declared. “Before your curiosity gets you killed, little kitten.”


	24. That is a nice boulder

Fenrir opened a large, rectangular portal whose contour was made of ice. Cold winds blew from within, stalactites hanging from the top. “Off you go, then, you ungrateful gnats,” the demon said. “I look forward to retrieving your unworthy souls when your world ends and torment them forever.” He paused. “Well, Edward’s soul, anyway. The others don’t belong to me.”

“Yes, about that,” Ted said. He appeared utterly unconcerned by Fenrir’s ominous threats. “The end of the world. The fledgling and I witnessed it, sort of, but what happens, exactly? It was a bit blurry.”

Fenrir shrugs. “Who can say? The gods have been fighting about it since…well, since they came into existence. Negotiations are nearly impossible. No one is willing to compromise. They spend most of their time arguing and the rest of it pouting and ignoring each other. Do you know how many deities there are? _Tens of thousands_. Imagine that many self-interested politicians trying to settle a matter in which one of the participants will clearly have won over the others. Of course they would stall as long as possible, rather than forfeit or admit incompetence.”

“Self-interested politicians” was a pleonasm, but Tony didn’t bother to point it out.

“Will it be glorious Ragnarök? Armageddon?" Fenrir mused. "Who will be the lucky Harbinger of the End Times? Will my brother and I play the part we were always meant to play?” He seemed genuinely concerned about that. “Will Apophis swallow the sun? Or will the Flying Spaghetti Monster steal the limelight?”

_Flying what now?_ Tony glanced at his companions, who looked equally puzzled, but decided not to enquire. They had other fish to fry. The demon was probably messing with them, anyway. Better not to get sucked in Fenrir’s mind games. “Well, we’ll leave you to it, then,” he said. He eyed Greyback, who was still unconscious. Could people be unconscious when they were already dead? This place was so confusing.

Tony was loath to admit it, considering what Greyback had done to Evey (and countless other people), but he felt sorry for the Wolf. Whatever he’d done in life, death was supposed to provide a blank slate, was it not? Did he really deserve to be tortured forever? He’d had a pretty shitty life, before becoming a Wolf. Not that it excused anything he’d done, but… Oh, well. Who was he to judge? Fenrir knew what he was doing. After all, that was his job.

On to the next realm, then. At last, they were going to meet the Master.

“Say hi to dad for me!” the demon called after them as Tony, following Ted and the Ripper, stepped into the glacial portal.

* * *

“’Dad’?” Tony repeated in a low voice. Frost clung to his clothes and his hair felt rigid with cold.

Ted turned toward him, frowning. “What was that, mate?”

Tony shook his head. He must have misheard Fenrir. Demons didn’t have parents, did they? Nevertheless, in the deep recesses of his mind, something was nagging at him. A long-forgotten piece of random trivia, perhaps. He couldn't quite grasp it. “Nothing. Let’s get this over with.”

The Ripper was already scouting ahead. They were in a grand hall, large enough to accommodate Fenrir in his true form. It was made of ice and richly decorated in blue, green and gold. It was a palace fit for a fairy tale king. There were no lesser demons to be seen, but they weren’t alone.

There were humans.

Ted nudged him forward and they advanced in silence toward the other end of the hall. Set wasn’t joking about coat hangers and cup bearers. Men and women in refined livery stood frozen in place, some with capes and cloaks draped over them, others bearing silver platters with food or drinks. Some were holding torches. All of them were blue with cold, their gazes devoid of emotion. They looked undead. No, soulless. As a resident of Azkaban for fourteen years, Tony could tell what a person without a soul looked like. The dementors must hail from Pandemonium.

Here and there were display cases and pedestals surmounted by strange objects. Tony eyed them curiously as he moved along the hall. There was a glowing cube that emitted a bluish light. A long, bloody spear made of bronze. A thin white rod that might be a wand of sort, though not of any material that Tony had ever encountered. A fork that looked terribly out of place among the other artefacts. A leather cap. A sword with a broken tip. A massive hammer with an unusually short grip. A golden arm ring. A sceptre with a goblet affixed to it. None of the displays were labelled, unfortunately.

They were halted in front of two massive gates by a pair of humans holding spears and barring the way. “You cannot pass,” the first one said flatly, his dead eyes staring at nothing.

“How dare you call on the Master unannounced,” the second added, without any inflection at all.

“Terribly rude,” the first one said.

“Disrespectful.”

“So very human.”

Tony had the bizarre impression that the words were put in their mouths, like talking puppets in a ventriloquist’s show. It made him uneasy.

“Be thee welcome!” a voice boomed.

The human guards retreated and the doors opened, revealing a chamber that was nearly as huge as the hall. “Come forth!” The Ripper didn’t hesitate and marched inside. Ted and Tony followed more cautiously. The room was decorated with giant ice statues of…well, possibly actual giants. There were paintings of every artistic movements. Picasso’s _Guernica_ clashed horribly beside the _Mona Lisa_ and what had to be a Jackson Pollock piece. The chamber was completely overloaded with tacky and pretentious art. There were also bookshelves, some of them featuring Marvel comic books.

There were more humans here, serving the same functions as those outside.

And on the other side of the chamber, on a high dais, stood an enormous throne. The throne itself was refined, made of wood, with carvings of mythological animals, demons and humans in apparent agony. On each side, columns of blue fire reached the ceiling.

Lounging on the throne was a man.

He fit the throne, which meant that he was as tall as any of the giant statues. He was slender, with lush, raven hair and sparkling green eyes. His skin was nearly as pale as Tony’s own. He was wearing a luxurious black suit with a green shirt and matching tie. He smiled warmly as they approached the dais, revealing perfect, unblemished teeth. “Welcome, welcome.” His voice was pleasant, smooth and low-pitched. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.” He snapped his fingers and three chairs appeared. They hesitated, but the man gestured insistently. “The chairs don’t bite, I promise.”

They complied. Tony shot a quick glance at his companions. Ted was alert, on the lookout for a trap, but the Ripper, oddly, seemed to be holding back laughter.

“Drinks?” the man offered. As soon as he said the word, humans approached, bearing trays of blood and other beverages for Ted. The Ripper grabbed one, but didn’t take a sip, so Tony accepted a glass but refrained from drinking, following her lead. Ted took a glass at random and emulated them. “I assure you, it’s not poisoned.” To prove his point, the man summoned a glass out of thin air and downed it in one. He smacked his lips contentedly, then made the glass vanish. He edged forward on his cushioned seat. “I assume you’ve puzzled out who I am, at last?”

If they hadn’t before, despite Fenrir’s last words, which now made perfect sense, the chamber’s décor was a pretty good clue. It was Ted who answered. “Loki Laufeyson.”

Loki beamed at him. “Good man!” He signalled to one of his servants to bring him a platter of fresh fruit – golden apples, Tony noticed. Loki took a bite and chewed pensively. “You know, you made it here much quicker than I expected. It’s a tad disappointing, I won’t lie, but it’s a testimony of the reports I’ve received. Miss Ripper, if you would like to join us, I will allow you to choose the realm of your choosing, even if I have to kick out its current governor. As for your name, I should think that the one you’ve embraced as a human will fit marvellously with your duties.”

She made no reply. Her face was scrunched up. She looked like she was about to burst into laughter. What was wrong with her?

Loki kept his gaze on her a moment longer, then went another direction entirely. He addressed Tony. “I understand that you’re looking for a mortal who accidentally wandered into our lands,” he said seriously. Or with mock seriousness, Tony thought. “That’s tragic, really. Mortals don’t do well in the Homeland.” He gestured broadly to encompass his army of zombified servants. “I know what it looks like, but contrary to popular belief, their souls didn’t go anywhere. They’re still within; they’ve simply…shifted. They’re not properly aligned anymore.”

Well, that was a relief. If they’d had to look for Sirius’s soul, on top of everything else…

Loki sighed. “Unfortunately, your…friend has been here a long time, I’ve been told. After a while, a mortal's vital essence begins to dwindle, until they fade and disappear altogether. It’s a painless death,” he said in a soothing voice. His expression was grief-stricken, but his eyes glittered with mischief.

“Can’t believe we went through all that shit just to be told he’s dead,” Ted grumbled. He forgot that he wasn’t supposed to drink and took a sip from his glass. He frowned down at it, but made no comment. He didn’t fall dead or explode, so perhaps Loki wasn’t lying and the drinks weren’t poisoned, but Tony didn’t feel like risking it.

“Come on, he can’t be dead! Why would you lead us on for days just to tell us that he died?” Tony demanded. “It makes no sense!”

Loki smiled with an approximation of human sympathy. “I understand your frustration, my good man, and I apologise for the inconvenience. I must admit, we kept you here for so long because I was curious about Miss Ripper. She has great potential. This was mainly intended as a test of her abilities and personality.”

“And you think she’d make a good demon?” Ted asked, obviously confused. “She saved our sorry hides several times. She’s proven to be more human than many humans I’ve met.”

“Did Lilith strike you as entirely inhuman?” Loki enquired. “Did Abaddon? They were human, once. I transcended them, but I never asked of them that they change. Lilith is still an empathetic would-be mother. Abaddon takes pride in his work.” He shrugged. “Most greater demons have human traits, good or bad. And most humans have demonic traits,” he added with a wry smile.

Fair enough, but completely beside the point. They had to get back on tracks. If Loki wanted to recruit the Ripper, he could give her a proper interview some other time. “Is there nothing at all that can be done to get Sirius back?” Evey would be devastated if Tony didn’t return with him. He’d rather stay in Pandemonium until his life essence dissolved than have to tell her that he’d failed.

Loki shook his head. “No, I’m afraid-”

“Alright, you’ve had your fun,” the Ripper announced. She stood up, hands on her hips. “Enough of this masquerade.” Tony gave her a quizzical look, but she ignored it. Her gaze was on the…god. Demon. Master.

Loki scowled and, for once, the expression on his face – perplexity – seemed genuine. At least it matched the look in his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

“Surrender the mortal,” the Ripper commanded.

“Um…Jack?” Tony said. He knew her real name now, but he’d be dead before he uttered the first syllable. Jack was safer. “What’s going on?”

She gestured toward the paintings and statues, then toward the throne. “Whatever he’s projecting, whatever you perceive, fledgling, it’s not real.”

Tony scanned the chamber, willing it to reveal its true appearance, but the décor remained stubbornly in place. “I don’t-”

“You can see through the glamour?” Loki demanded, shock painted on his face. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t faking it now. “Impossible,” he whispered.

“You’re manipulating our minds,” the Ripper said. “But I’m immune to that trickery, Trickster.” She smiled crookedly. “How’s that throne of yours, mm? Comfortable slab of rock?”

“Fine. You got me.” Loki shot her a grin, but it was unpleasant now, cruel. Unstable. “My son’s beloved made you more powerful than we agreed, more powerful than a human has any right to be. Unfortunately, there’s little more I can do to punish her.” He snapped his fingers again.

And just like that, the chamber vanished. The servants, too. The three of them were on a windy, rocky islet, and Loki was strapped to a boulder, restrained by a strange rope. Above him was a large snake, its vicious fangs dripping venom.

Part of Loki’s previously handsome face melted away. One of his eyes was a dark pit and he had burn scars everywhere. Half of his mouth was lipless and revealed rotted teeth. He was completely bald, and naked, too, his skeletal body limp, too weak to struggle against his restraints. He was pathetic, to the point where Tony actually felt bad for him, especially if the rest of the myth was true. “Are you really bound by…um…”

“My son’s entrails. Yes. Quaint, innit?” Loki said sardonically. His voice, so clear and mellow before, was now a barely audible rasp. “But not to worry. I have other children.”

_Say hi to dad for me._ Yeah, there was at least one that Tony knew of. “How can you possibly be in charge of this place? Do the demons see the majestic hall and smartly dressed king, and nothing else?”

“They see what I want them to see, but even if they knew – and a few of them do, make no mistake – I am still a god. Even bound and weakened, I’m more powerful than any of them.”

“But Set is a god, too,” Tony pointed out.

Loki sniggered. “Set was demoted ages ago. He’s but a shadow of the deity he used to be.” From the bitterness in his hoarse voice, Tony had the feeling that they’d _both_ been demoted, except that Loki had somehow arisen to be the Master, likely thanks to much scheming, tricking and manipulating. And outsmarting Set.

As another drop of acidic venom fell from a glistening fang, Tony finally noticed the man who struggled to catch it with a small basin – and missed, his movements too uncoordinated to react in time.

It was Sirius.

“You had him here all along?!” Tony roared. Bloody hell! He took a few quick steps toward Sirius. He didn’t appear to be harmed, except for a few minor scars on his hands, where venom must have dripped. His eyes looked as empty as the ones of the illusory servants. “Sirius, mate? Can you hear me?”

“He cannot comprehend what you say,” Loki explained with gleeful malice. “I control his mind, and can make him do simple tasks, or speak words, but if not for me, he’d just sit in a corner and slowly rot. I wasn’t lying earlier. His soul is unhinged. He might as well be dead. Your mission was doomed from the onset, I’m sorry to say.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. He sounded fucking delighted.

“Evey and Walden will find a way to cure him,” Tony affirmed.

“It cannot be cured,” Loki countered.

“How do you know? Have you ever tried?” He took the bowl from Sirius’s hands and led the man away from Loki. “We’re leaving now. Enjoy the venom in your face, snake.”

Loki barked a rough laugh. “Leaving how? Going where?”

Oh. Right. Tony had forgotten that they were on an islet in the middle of a stormy sea. If there was a portal in the area, it was nowhere to be seen.

“I will send you back to the human world if one of you volunteers to replace the mortal,” Loki said magnanimously. “After all, he’s quite useless.”

“What about your wife?” Ted enquired. “Er, what was her name…Sigyn? Isn’t she supposed to be the one-”

“Do not speak that name in my presence!” Loki hissed. His green eye flashed with rage.

Tony passed his free hand through his hair. He was the obvious choice. He couldn’t condemn Ted to an eternity of gleaning poison from a gigantic snake and the Ripper would never agree to sacrifice herself for a mere mortal. He opened his mouth.

“Don’t even think about it, fledgling,” the Ripper snapped.

“We can’t just leave Sirius here!” he protested. “I trust Evey and Walden. They’ll find a cure.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course we’re not leaving him here, not after we went through all that trouble to find him.” She turned to face Loki. “May I offer an even better alternative, o mighty Venom Face?”

Loki grinned at her. Given the state of his face, the sight was disturbing. “I do love me a good bargain.”

“You’re the one who tasked Bob the giant janitor to sweep a random spot of dusty ground for no reason, right?”

Loki frowned, though only part of one eyebrow remained on his ruined face. “Bob?”

“You must know him. He told us that the ‘Master’ made him do it. It was in the realm with the bloody sore in the sky. And I mean ‘bloody’ literally, for once.”

“Oh,” Loki chuckled, “you mean Iapetus. What about him?”

Iapetus? That was the name of a Titan, according to Greek mythology… Damn. Evey and Walden had poisoned his mind with random knowledge, it seemed. And indeed, what about Bob? Where was she going with this?

“He seems happy to do whatever you command, no matter how pointless or degrading,” the Ripper explained. “He’s really tall, with large hands that can probably hold as much venom as the basin can contain, so that very little of it would actually reach you. He has good enough coordination and seems to never tire. I believe that he could handle this essential task,” she went on, pointing at the snake, “with diligence and perhaps even enthusiasm.”

“That’s…” Loki seemed to hesitate. “No, no. That’s too easy. I don’t like it. I want one of you to do it.”

“Well, none of us will,” the Ripper said. “If you won’t accept Bob as the much better alternative that it is, we’ll just stay on this island indefinitely, and let all of the venom land where it should. We’ll watch your face dissolve.”

Loki pouted, or tried to, with what remained of his mouth. Then he grinned again. “Very well. I’ll take you up on your offer.”

The Ripper nodded smugly. “Want us to fetch him for you?”

“No need, no need.” Loki couldn’t snap his fingers, attached as he was, but with a faint _pop_ Bob materialised beside the rock, holding his push broom. It took him a few seconds to realise that he wasn’t where he usually was.

“Master!” he exclaimed, dropping his broom in shock.

“Yes, it’s me, Iap…um, Bob. Hi. Hand him the basin, would you?” he asked the Ripper. She complied without a word. “Bob, hold this under the snake and catch the venom. This is your new assignment. Until further notice.”

Bob grabbed the bowl, which looked tiny in his hand, and did as ordered. “Bob will do his best, Master.”

“Yeah, that’s great,” the Ripper said. “Now teleport us home. All four of us,” she clarified. “The fledgling, Ted, the mortal and myself, all together to the same place – Macnair manor.”

“Good thinking,” Ted murmured. “Always better to be specific, when bargaining with a demon.”

Tony felt uncomfortable about the whole affair, but his only other choice was to spare Bob from an eternity of venom duty and take his place. It would be the noble thing to do…but he was no Gryffindor.

And Evey was waiting for him.

“Yes,” Loki said with his distorted smile. “I will return you to the human world, as agreed.”


	25. I met a man who wasn't there

“I will return shortly,” Malkoran promised. “I need to see to a few administrative formalities. I will also contact Hannibal. Hopefully he will be able to tell me where we can find Hunac.”

Evey took a sip of tea. Gods, it was good to be home. Her favourite blend of tea, her kitchen, her dog lying at her feet. Nana had celebrated their return for nearly half an hour and was now resting. Sloan had kept the house in pristine order in their absence. She’d looked after Nana and Caraid, their old house elf, and she’d cleaned everything from top to bottom. She’d gone home now, in the nearby village.

“And I will call Erik again,” Mal continued. Neither Wolf had replied to their emails and their phones went straight to voicemail.

“If we don’t hear from them this week, we’ll have to find the ingredients on our own,” Evey noted. “The heart must be used as soon as it’s done soaking, otherwise it’ll go to waste and we’ll need a new one.”

“I’m sure that Hannibal will prove helpful. He’s supposed to know where everyone is at any given time.” He stood up. “Estelle is going to Apparate with me to London and she will visit the Shadow Market in Covent Garden while I attend to my own business. We should be back by morning.”

“Don’t be late. I don’t want to be alone when _she_ arrives. And be careful.”

He smiled, a little sadly. “I’m invincible.”

“Hades called Estelle a psychopath and wouldn’t make himself known to her. If even a god is wary around her, you ought to be mildly terrified.”

“I’m not, but I’ll be on my guard, fear not. Do you need anything in London?”

“Um, no.” She patted Nana. “I have everything I need right here.”

“Then let me reciprocate your own advice before I leave: be careful when visiting Azkaban.”

Evey shrugged. “The Dementors are gone. It’s just a prison like any other now. Kingsley gave us a pass and the Crouch bloke is a vegetable. We’ll be in and out in no time.”

That may be the case, but she wasn’t looking forward to this at all. The thought of being at Azkaban, with or without the Dementors, unnerved her like few other things could. Malkoran could probably sense her unease, despite her casual tone, but he merely nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning. Estelle is already outside; I should be going. I do not wish to incur her wrath by making her wait.”

As soon as he was gone, Walden appeared in the kitchen. Was he avoiding the Wolf altogether now? “Are you ready?” he asked her.

Evey gulped down the remainder of her tea. “Yeah, let’s go.” Nana whined softly. “Don’t worry, darling. This time we won't be gone for long.”

* * *

“How do I know that the signature isn’t forged?” the ferryman demanded, his face set in a stubborn pout. His arms were crossed over his massive chest. “I’ve contacted the authorities. I don’t trust you.” He was talking to Walden. He’d been ignoring Evey from the moment they’d arrived at the pier. “I know who you are, Macnair. I remember everyone who’s ever been in that boat.”

Evey rolled her eyes. “He was never convicted,” she repeated for the third time. “He only spent two nights at Azkaban before he was released!” She grabbed the parchment that Kingsley had sent them by owl post and waved it in front of the man’s nose, though he was nearly two feet taller than she was. “You must be aware that the Minister’s signature cannot be forged. There’s a dozen charms to prevent that from happening.”

The ferryman shrugged. He talked to Walden again, as if he were the one who’d spoken. “You dark wizards have all sorts of wicked tricks up your sleeves, don’t you?”

Evey’s eyes widened in outrage. “We are _not_ -”

“What seems to be the matter, Tarquin?” a deep voice enquired.

Walden turned to see Kingsley standing behind him. “Hello, Minister.”

“Walden,” Kingsley said. “Evangeline. Good to see you.”

“That oaf refuses to let us in the boat!” Evey said in lieu of a proper greeting.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

The ferryman – Tarquin – didn’t look so high-and-mighty now. “Well… They said… They need someone’s eyelash is what the paper says. I figured it was a clever scheme to get inside and break his little friends out,” he explained, pointing at Walden’s chest.

“Why would they invent such a ridiculous reason to gain entry, when they could have claimed to visit a relative?” Kingsley asked. “Do you receive a lot of notes from former Death Eaters who wish to steal people’s eyelashes?”

Tarquin lowered his eyes. “I… Well, no, but…”

“This parchment bears the official seal of the Ministry and my signature, Tarquin. They cannot be forged.” He took a step forward. “There are wards in place to identify Metamorphmagi as well as people who are under the influence of Polyjuice, so you know I am who I claim to be, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” the ferryman muttered.

“And only I would know that today’s password – which, given the time of day, was determined only two hours ago – is gillyweed.”

“Aye, Mister Shacklebolt.”

“Then, as per the rules, you are going to confiscate all of our wands, lock them in the box, and let us in your boat. You will row us to the main entrance and wait for us there. Is that understood?”

Tarquin nodded and put his hand forward. “Give ‘em here.”

Evey reluctantly parted with her wand, then Walden and Kingsley surrendered theirs. Tarquin opened what looked like a simple wooden box and placed them inside. Walden assumed that there was more to it.

“You don’t have to accompany us,” he told the Minister.

“The Aurors are unlikely to give you trouble once you’re on the island, since I’ve warned them of your visit, but I’m due for an inspection anyway. Might as well get it done now.” He suppressed a yawn.

“Sure you wouldn’t rather sleep a bit?” Evey suggested. “You look exhausted.”

“I have one more appointment after this… But I can sleep from four till seven. It’s in my schedule.” He smiled tiredly. “Then I have breakfast with the Prime Minister.”

Evey sniggered. “That dolt.” Kingsley did not contradict her.

“Let’s go, then,” Tarquin barked. “All aboard.”

* * *

“Have you heard from Tonks?” Evey asked Kingsley once they were on land again. “I tried to chimney-call her at home, but we couldn’t be connected, for some reason.”

“She’s moved back in with her mother,” Kingsley explained. “She felt… She said it felt wrong to live there without Remus. And she needed someone to look after young Teddy. Her mother retired last year, after her husband’s death. Tonks is quite busy, working with the newly-appointed Werewolf Committee.”

“She getting along with Scabior alright?”

Kingsley hesitated. “It’s… There have been… Well, they haven’t murdered each other yet,” he said. “And, somehow, things seem to be moving along. The repurposed Snatchers are doing an excellent job. They caught Corban Yaxley last week. He’s awaiting trial, but chances are that Azkaban will become his permanent residence for life.”

Walden considered telling him that they could stop looking for Travers, but he didn’t want to incriminate Malkoran. Evey would be mad at him if he did.

“What about Greyback’s pack?” she went on.

“Scabior is looking after them. The non-werewolf members of the Committee wanted the children to be placed under government care, but Scabior refused, and Tonks took his stance, for once.” Kingsley sighed. “Greyback, believe it or not, left a will. Strange thing to do for a man who was immortal and pretty much impossible to kill, but he did. He left everything to Scabior and the pack – three large estates, a few farms, a dozen well-funded bank accounts. They should be alright for quite some time.”

“How nice of him,” Evey muttered.

Well, it was. Walden hated the Wolf with a passion, but at least Greyback had done some good before kicking the bucket. There were, after all, three or four hundred werewolves in his pack, including orphaned children. Orphaned by him, in some cases, but still. And it was hard for a werewolf to find a steady job. Disclosing their nature was compulsory (even if they didn’t, there was a registry), and they were not allowed to find work in the Muggle world, because it was deemed too dangerous.

One of the objectives of the new Werewolf Committee was to deal with that sort of inequality between werewolves and non-werewolves. Walden feared it would take some time to change things, but it was worth a try, certainly. And if Tonks couldn’t do it, nobody could.

They now stood in front of the main entrance, two looming gates. A single Auror was guarding them. Walden guessed that, if not for Kingsley’s presence at their side, the lady would have arrested them on the spot, official paper or not. She was one of the Aurors who had first responded after the Prewetts’ murder and, judging by the look in her eyes, she remembered Walden from the poor excuse of a trial that had followed. She was Fabian’s girlfriend, at the time.

“Good morning, Sarah,” Kingsley said as they neared the gates. “Everything under control here?”

“Nothing to report, sir. Please, go in.” She flicked her wand and the gates opened. “Dashiell will guide you.”

“Thank you.”

Walden noticed that Evey was tense, now that they were on prison ground. “Don’t worry, love. We won’t have to go through the high-security quarters; they’re at the top of the building, and we’re going to the basement, where the…” Gorks? No, that was offensive, even to people such as Barty Crouch, Jr. “…where the inmates who have been kissed by a Dementor reside.”

“There’s only one of them,” Kingsley informed them. “Barty Crouch. And he will hopefully be the last. Usually, a family member will approve the euthanasia request, but Mr Crouch is all alone, unfortunately.”

“Can’t anyone else approve it? Someone from the Ministry? It seems…cruel to leave him like that.” Evey cleared her throat. “Well, it serves our purpose, but after we’ve taken what we need…”

“I’ll enquire about the possibilities,” Kingsley said. “May have to sign the form myself.” The weariness in his voice was heavier than before. “Like as not, I have the authority to do so.”

 _Only those who do not seek power are qualified to hold it_ , Plato had once said. Walden thought that Kingsley Shacklebolt was the embodiment of that wise quote. If he could keep up with the immense pressure and crushing responsibility of his position, he would be one the greatest Minister for Magic that the United Kingdom had known in quite some time.

They were guided through long corridors by a young wizard whose face was still covered with juvenile acne. “I’m sorry,” he said in a croaky voice, “but we’ll have to take a little detour. The west wing is being rebuilt after…er…”

“Yes, I know what happened,” Kingsley said. When Evey and Walden gave him a curious glance, he explained. “Last June, a man, whom we later identified as Travers, blew up that side of the prison and attempted to break his…associates out. He failed, but three Aurors were severely injured in the process. One of them is still at St Mungo, her condition unstable.”

Walden noted that Evey didn’t jump at the opportunity to tell Kingsley that Travers was dead. The world may never know.

They would have to go through one of the corridors that contained inhabited cells, Walden realised as they advanced. Not the high-security quarters, thankfully, but still. Evey looked straight ahead, pretending not to hear the pleas of the prisoners – though why they were pleading, Walden couldn’t say. There was hardly anything to complain about, now that the Dementors were gone. They had three meals, they were allowed to exercise one hour per day, their clothes and sheets were washed regularly. Nothing was driving them mad but their own conscience.

“Let me out of here!” a woman shrieked when they passed her cell. “Don’t you know who I am? I don’t belong here! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!” Walden couldn’t help but glance at her. He recognised the woman from the Quibbler: the infamous Dolores Umbridge.

_Didn’t do anything, my arse. I bet that’s what the people who were on trial yelled at Nuremberg. Perhaps they hadn’t killed anyone with their own hands, but they were guilty, alright._

“She was sentenced to life, right?” Evey asked quietly. Kingsley nodded. “Good.” Then, in an even lower voice that only Walden could hear: “Pity that the Dementors are gone.”

It took them ten minutes to reach their destination. This wasn’t an infirmary; there was one, but it was on the other side of the prison. This place was located right beside the prison’s morgue, and it was no accident: they served essentially the same purpose.

It was a bare room with a couple of old beds, the mattresses busted and soiled. It stank of urine and worse. One bed was concealed by a threadbare curtain, behind which a shadow lurked. “Does no one look after him? A…nurse, or an orderly?” Evey asked in a murmur.

“There should be,” Kingsley replied. “Just take what you need while I have a word with the guard.” He left the room to talk with the boy who’d brought them here.

Evey glanced at Walden. “You, um… You go first? I’ll be right behind you.”

“You can stay here. I’ll take care of it.” She didn’t protest, which was nothing short of incredible. In July, they’d been called to hunt down an Acromantula of epic proportions and, despite her arachnophobia, Evey had been the first inside the beast’s lair. She was more afraid of seeing a soulless man than of fighting a giant spider.

He let go of her and headed for Bartemius Crouch’s deathbed, carefully closing the curtain behind him so that Evey wouldn’t see. Walden had briefly known Barty as a lad – though they were years apart at Hogwarts, and in different Houses – and Crouch had always been lanky, but now he was a skeleton with flesh. He was skinnier than Tony had ever been. His skin was sallow, and he was almost bald, his once fair hair now only thin strands of white. But the worse part was his gaze: his eyes were empty. There was no life in them at all. The man might as well be dead – he _should_ be dead. Leaving someone in this condition was inhumane; Walden wouldn’t have wished this fate even on Greyback. He hoped that Kingsley would be able to do something about it, and soon.

“Hey, mate,” he said in a low voice. He knew that Crouch couldn’t hear him, or at least not understand him, but it felt less awkward to talk. The silence in the room was heavy and uncomfortable. “You’ve been given one last chance to redeem yourself…” He paused. “Whether you want it or not, I suppose. A chance to save a life, instead of taking one. Ironically, this man’s condition must be similar to yours.” If Sirius was even alive. If he could be found. If they hadn’t been lied to about his condition. That was a lot of ifs.

“I’m just going to take one eyelash of yours.” There was one on Crouch’s left cheek, he noticed. Even better; he wouldn’t have to pull one out. Not that Crouch would have felt it. Walden opened the small vial he’d taken with him and gently let the eyelash slide into it. There. A Dementor-kissed person’s eyelash – an ingredient that had become a rarity in a very short time. “Thank you. We’ll do what we can to…” Kill you? That was blunt. Not that the bloke’s feelings could be hurt. “…to let you rest in peace, at last. Farewell, Barty.”

When he turned to leave, he noticed that Evey had joined him after all. She was gnawing at her lip. “We can’t leave him like this, Wal, it’s… We just can’t. The Dementors are monsters for what they did to him, but if we do nothing about it, we’re just as bad. I mean, look at him. There’s nothing there. He’s a husk. That’s no life – it’s worse than the purgatory that awaits us all when we die.”

“Do we still go there if we don’t have a soul, though?” Walden wondered. “There’s nothing for the Shinigami to harvest.” For that matter, what had happened to Barty’s soul? Was it truly gone, destroyed forever? They didn't know much about the Dementors - for obvious reason, studying them closely had been impossible.

Evey grimaced. “I don’t really want to think about that. But we can’t-”

“I’ll see to it that he’s…put to rest,” Kingsley said. He was on the other side of the curtain, but he could hear them just fine. “As soon as possible. I promise. Don’t do anything foolish, Evangeline. It’s not worth it.”

She snorted and moved the curtain. “Would you have me arrested if I finished him off? It wouldn’t be a crime, Kingsley. It’d be a mercy and you know it.”

“I do. That’s why I will enquire about the euthanasia form this very afternoon.” Walden noted that he didn’t answer her question. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Walden held up the vial. “Aye, got it.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, then,” Evey said. “Place gives me the creeps.” She shuddered. “I can’t believe Tony spent fourteen years in here. And constantly surrounded by Dementors, what’s more.”

Outside the room, the youthful guard’s face was red, and it had nothing to do with the acne.

“Crouch’s sheets need to be changed. His clothes, too,” Walden told him.

“Mister Herring here will see that it’s done within the hour,” Kingsley said, inclining his head toward the lad. “Won’t you?”

“Yes, sir, um, Mister Shacklebolt. Um, Minister.”

“Very well. We’ll leave you to it. We can see ourselves out, thank you.”

Dolores Umbridge screamed at them some more on the way out, but they ignored her.

At the gates outside, Walden thanked Kingsley warmly. “Cheers. We couldn’t have done it without you. Well, at least not without breaking and entering.” Malkoran could have done that, easily. But it was nice to do things legally, once in a while.

“You still won’t tell me why you needed this? I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but you must admit that it is indeed a strange request.”

“To brew a very special potion. Don’t worry, we’re not trying to bring back Voldemort,” Evey assured him. That was what Estelle had believed, initially. Perhaps some people were in fact trying to do that, but Walden didn’t think it was possible. Voldemort’s corpse had been cremated the very day he’d perished.

Then again, they’d believed him dead and gone once before.

“If it works out, it will be a great surprise,” Evey continued. “But I don’t want to get everybody’s hopes up, in case we fail.”

Kingsley nodded. “I understand, and I trust you. If you need anything else, you know how to contact me.”

“Thanks. Have a good night…and get some sleep.”

Speaking of sleep… “We should go, love,” Walden said. “The Dementors may be gone, but I don’t want to be in Azkaban when the sun rises.”

* * *

There was still an hour before dawn, which they spent in bed together, but when Walden fell asleep, Evey went down to the kitchen. She wasn’t tired. She reviewed the list of ingredients for the umpteenth time and crossed the eyelash off of it. Only a few items to go: demonic saliva, Yggdrasil sap, Valhalla mead, Chaca tree bark, the thylacine hair. That one would be in their possession before midday; Darya the Salty Chick had promised to come by in the morning so that Malkoran could harvest it.

The doorbell rang just as Evey laid down her quill. She groaned. Mal would have used the back door, and Estelle wouldn’t have bothered to announce her arrival. In other words, Evey was all alone to welcome Darya; Mal and Estelle had not returned yet, her husband was dead to the world. She would have to entertain the mass-murderer who’d conspired to kill her for an undetermined amount of time.

“Come on in!” she yelled. Then, reluctantly, she got some blood out of the fridge and prepared herself for the awkward moment to come.


	26. You haven’t really been anywhere until you’ve got back home

They appeared at the front gate of Macnair manor. It was a bright day, sunny and warm, with a light breeze. Birds were singing, insects were buzzing. To all appearances, they were home.

Tony was holding Sirius upright. He could stand and walk on his own, but his balance was off. The passage from Pandemonium to their world had done nothing to improve – or, thankfully, worsen – his condition. He gazed ahead with dead eyes, his mouth partly open. Tony wiped drool off his chin.

He looked toward the house. He hoped that this wasn’t yet another illusion. His senses told him that they were indeed in the human world – well, in _their_ world – but he’d been fooled by scents, sounds and sights before. And the way Loki had smiled… “It seems too easy, doesn’t it? One moment Loki doesn’t want to hear about Bob, the next he accepts our offer without a protest and sends us home?”

The Ripper nodded grimly. “’twas suspicious, but we do seem to be ho-” She cleared her throat. “...to be in Scotland."

“It…looks like it.” The garden was different than he remembered, but then again he didn’t spend much time outside. Also, he had no idea how long they’d been gone. It could be years, for all he knew, time enough for Evey and Walden to make changes around the place.

“It smells like it, too,” Ted said. “Not a whiff of demonic stench anywhere. Except for you two, obviously,” he added with a grin.

The Ripper welcomed that remark with a flat look. “Let’s get going, then. I’ll make the delivery, but then I’m out of here.”

They were halfway to the door when Tony spoke again. “I can’t believe you did that to Bob,” he said in an accusatory tone.

“What do you mean?” Ted asked. “She saved us from an eternity of unpleasantness, we got Sirius back alive, _and_ Loki sent us home! That was brilliantly negotiated, if you ask me.”

“Bob was easily sacrificed,” Tony muttered. Bob wasn’t even a demon. He was a Titan. Loki must have wiped out his mind or something. Maybe Iapetus had done something to annoy him or had stood in his way to the top.

“What would you have done?” the Ripper demanded. “Sacrifice yourself nobly for no reason at all? You think it would have increased your chances with the girl?” Her smirk was just as nasty as Loki’s.

“None of us will discuss what happened in Pandemonium,” Tony warned them both. “I vow to keep your name a secret, but you must swear to never repeat what Fenrir said about Evey. And to never tell her what happened with the succubus,” he added. “Or with Abaddon. And don’t tell her about Greyback, either.”

The Ripper snorted. “In short, we must fake memory loss.”

“What happens in Pandemonium, stays in Pandemonium,” Ted murmured.

They reached the front staircase a minute later and Tony knocked on the door. He lived here, but it was best not to walk in unannounced, he’d learned over the months.

Evey shouted, “Come on in!”, and so they did.

Tony wasn’t sure about the garden, but they had redecorated inside. The walls were painted bright colours and the paintings were new. Gods, he hoped he hadn’t been gone for years. Their little jaunt in Middle-earth had been bad enough.

“In the kitchen!” Evey called.

Tony let the Ripper take Sirius and she led him to the couch. The two men made their way to the kitchen.

Evey, at least, looked the same as always. Though Tony frowned at her t-shirt. _The Poisoned Apples_? It was obviously a music band, but he’d never heard of them. Oh well. He’d been in prison a long time. He still had some catching up to do.

“You’re back!” Evey ran to hug him, and he let her into his arms, squeezing as tightly as he dared. There was nothing wrong with hugging, right? “Thank Harry!” she exclaimed against his chest. She released him and hugged Ted briefly. “Are you alright? How did it go? Where’s-”

“The suicide mission was a success,” Tony announced. Honestly, now that he thought about it, he’d never really hoped to find Sirius alive. Evey had contaminated him with her steadfast optimism, but the chances had been slim. What they’d accomplished was nothing short of a miracle.

“What about you?” Ted asked. “Any luck with your research?”

Evey turned to look at him, confusion plain on her face. “Research?”

“Um…you know,” Tony said, “a cure, or something. Was Scamander any help? Did you find Flamel’s notes?”

Evey frowned at him, then walked a few steps in his direction, standing dangerously close. She took his hands in hers. _Okay, nothing wrong with that_ , he reassured himself. She must have missed him, she’d been worried. It was a comforting gesture, nothing more. “I have no idea what you’re going on about,” she said softly, “but you’ve been gone several weeks. You must be worn out.”

Weeks? Well, it wasn’t so bad. What concerned him was her lack of answers to their questions. Had they abandoned their quest for a cure to Sirius’s ailment for some reason? Was Sirius doomed?

Gods, after all the trouble they’d-

“I’ve missed you, honey.” Evey moved even closer. “Kiss me already.”

 _Oh, for fuck’s sake!_ Another _succubus? That’s so two days ago, Loki!_

He rolled his eyes in annoyance and pushed her away, not gently. Enough of this. Evey gasped in surprise and stumbled backwards, catching her balance on the counter. “Can’t you target someone else, for Merlin’s sake? Why is it always me?” he complained to Ted. The Wolf made no reply. He looked puzzled.

Evey was glowering at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Damn, she was so life-like. But he wouldn’t be fooled again. “It won’t work,” he told the demon. “I mean, I know I’m dumb, but to use the same trick twice in a row… Come on. At least be creative, you deceitful bitch.”

Evey slapped him.

Ted was shuffling his feet, unsure what to do or say. “Tony, I don’t think-” Tony raised a hand to slap her right back, but Ted caught his arm. “Mate, I don’t think it’s a demon.”

Evey scoffed in outrage. “Of course I’m not a bloody demon! What happened to you? Did he hit his head or something?” she asked Ted.

The Wolf shrugged uneasily. “Um… It’s a long story.”

At that moment, the Ripper entered the room. Evey took one look at her and went for her wand – well, _a_ wand. It wasn’t made of the same wood as the one Tony knew. “Who are you? How did you get in?”

Tony looked at Ted and gestured at the scene. “You see? It’s not her!”

“I didn’t say it was her, I said she wasn’t a demon,” Ted noted.

“What are you talking about, you twits?” Evey yelled, pointing her wand at Tony’s chest. “Of course I’m me! Who the fuck are _you_?”

Ted raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, everybody calm down.”

The Ripper sniggered. “I have no idea what’s happening, but it is highly entertaining. I get what the demons meant.”

Evey gripped her wand with both hands. “I don’t know who or what you are, but if you don’t leave _right now_ , I’m going to Avada Kedavra your arses back to the hole you crawled out of without an ounce of hesitation or regret,” she warned them.

“No, no, lass, don’t,” Ted urged her. “Let me explain, yes? It’s alright. We come in peace.”

Evey didn’t try to kill them – though they were hardly in any danger; magic couldn’t harm them – but she didn’t relax, either. She was eyeing them with perplexity and fear, but the look she gave Tony was the worst of all: she was hurt by his actions and his words.

Tony avoided her gaze and instead took in the scene with dawning realisation – and horror. The new décor, the mysterious music band, Evey’s unnerving promiscuity… _I will return you to the human world_ , Loki had promised. And the sly bastard had made good on his promise, except that he’d sent them to the _wrong_ world. Certainly on purpose.

 _I_ knew _he was messing with us. I fucking knew it._

Thanks to Magnus the Warlock, they knew that there were…alternate, parallel worlds – dimensions? realities? – out there, outside of Pandemonium. Apparently, this was one of them. It was the only sensible explanation.

“Oh, gods,” Tony murmured. “I’m so sorry, V, I didn’t mean…” He trailed off. This wasn’t _his_ Evey. She was practically a stranger. Yet the betrayed look in her eyes was real. Had he just called her a bitch? Merlin. He’d felt oddly ashamed calling even the demon that, but if this was an actual person…

“Who are you people?” Evey repeated. She cautiously lowered her wand, but she didn’t put it back in its sheath. Her grip on it was strong, her knuckles white with strain.

“I’m Ted,” the Wolf said. “You seem to know me already.”

“Well, yes. But you’re not…not the person I know. He has a golden tooth, and we call him Eddie.” She glanced at Tony. “And _he_ is definitely not my Tony.”

 _My Tony_. “Are we… I mean, in this world, are you and…he…” It had never happened once when he’d fallen through the defective portal, and now…

“Tony’s my husband,” she said with some sharpness.

There was an awkward moment of silence, but the Ripper chuckled through it. “Boy, did we underestimate Loki. This is _wicked_.” She sounded positively impressed.

“This is a nightmare,” Tony whispered.

“Thanks,” Evey said dryly.

“No, I mean… I just…” Ugh, this was so frustrating! He couldn’t seem to find his words.

“You know what, love?” Ted said. “How about you and I talk alone and leave these two to take care of Sirius, eh? I’ll explain it all to you, and then we can work out something together.”

Evey’s scowled deepened. “Sirius?”

Ted nodded. “Aye, there’s obviously a lot to explain.” He gestured toward Tony and the Ripper. “Shoo. You’re confusing her. Let me handle this.”

* * *

Angie stared blankly at the kettle as the water boiled. Behind her, the man who claimed to be another version of Eddie sat at the kitchen table, but she didn’t dare face him. Not yet.

What fresh hell was this?

First, Tony, Eddie and Amy had _abandoned_ her, despite her firm opposition to this insane “quest” of theirs. Life wasn’t a game of D&D, for Harry’s sake. They knew nothing of Pandemonium. For all they knew, its inhabitants could kill even immortal beings. It was a suicide mission, in her estimation. They didn’t even know what to look for! They didn’t have a way out! She’d cried her eyes out when Tony had Disapparated at the front gate, outside the wards. Maybe it was cowardly of her, maybe she was being selfish, but there were so few of them left… What if they never returned? What if Angie was left alone in the world, with only Walden for company?

That was three weeks ago. She’d been worried sick, had barely eaten. Mal and Ellie were still in hiding. Angie had been alone here with Walden, with nothing to do but be terrified out of her mind.

And now…this. Whatever this was.

She inhaled a deep breath, then released the air slowly. It was a trick she’d learned in captivity, and it helped calm her nerves. Somewhat. She poured the water in the teapot, moved to put it on the table and almost spilled the tea, because her hands were shaking so badly. The teapot landed with a _clang_ , but didn’t overturn. She half-fell in her chair across from Fake Eddie.

“I’m sorry if we startled you,” the man said. “We were misled. We thought we were coming home, you see…”

“Yeah, I thought that, too,” Angie muttered. How her heart had leaped when she’d heard the knock on the door. She knew it had to be her husband and her friends. No one else could get through the wards. “So you’re from…another world? Something like that?”

“Something like that,” he confirmed. “We were in a place called Pandemonium…”

“Yes, I know of it. That’s where Ton-” She cut off. “That’s where my husband went, too. With…the other you, and another friend of ours. Who’s that lady with you, anyway? And how…how is Sirius alive? Bellatrix Lestrange killed him. I saw it with my own eyes. We buried him, for Harry’s sake.” She paused, realising that, in their world, things had perhaps gone differently. Maybe they didn’t even know who Bellatrix was.

If so, lucky them.

“Our Sirius disappeared inside Pandemonium years ago,” Not-Eddie explained. “We thought he was dead, but then we learned there was a slim chance that he may have survived. That’s why we undertook this crazy voyage in the first place. I assume that your people left for a different reason, then.”

Angie narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t answer my first question. Who’s the creepy lady?”

The man chuckled. He sounded exactly like Eddie, had the same mannerisms. It was uncanny. No wonder she’d been fooled… If not for Tony’s extreme reaction, the charade might have gone on for several more minutes. She'd been too relieved, too happy to see them, to notice that their clothes were wrong, or that her husband seemed reluctant to even embrace her. “I take it you haven’t met all of the Ancients. If that’s what you call them here, too.” He raised a bushy eyebrow.

“Yes, we do, and yes, I have met them all. She’s not one of them.”

“Uh, that’s odd. How many do you have? We have fourteen. Well, thirteen, now,” he amended.

Angie hesitated. Thirteen of their Ancients were still alive? “There were fourteen in total here as well,” she replied warily. Only six of them had survived the War, though, and only three of those were on their side. Provided that Tony and Amy were still alive, wherever they were.

“Mm. Interesting. Well, our friend is called the Ripper. We…um, don’t know her real name.”

He scratched his beard as he said the words, and Angie wondered if his tell for lying was the same as Eddie’s. She didn’t press him, however. “That’s her official alias, then? Like…Tony, who used to be called the Wizard?”

“Yes! Exactly. And…well, she’s in fact _the_ Ripper.” Angie stared at him, uncomprehending. Was that supposed to mean something? “You know. Jack the Ripper.” That didn’t ring a bell. “The notorious serial killer? London, 1888? White Chapel?” he insisted.

Angie shook her head, mystified. “Never heard of her.”

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. She’s a friend, anyway. You don’t need to worry about her.” He glanced at the ceiling, sniffing loudly. “Are you alone here, lass?”

“It’s just me and Walden,” she replied. It was the truth, though she was loath to let him know just how alone she was at the moment. But there was no concealing it, not from a Wolf. Still, she was careful to divulge as little information as possible. She wasn’t entirely convinced that they were who they claimed to be and she simply couldn’t afford to trust anyone outside of her inner circle. “He’s asleep.”

“Right. Of course he is. I wasn’t thinking. And-”

“I don’t suppose you’ve run into my people, while you were in Pandemonium?” Angie blurted out before he could ask anything else. “They’ve been gone for weeks. Does time pass differently there?”

“We haven’t met anyone who looked like us, no. No humans at all, except Sirius. As for time…um, it’s difficult to tell. I have not a clue how long we were in there. Pandemonium doesn’t follow a regular day/night pattern. I’d say we couldn’t have been stranded more than a few days, but without returning to our own world, there’s no way to be certain. For all we know, this world and ours aren’t even synched.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Angie said, her face drooping with disappointment.

“But hey, don’t despair,” the Wolf went on with a cheerfulness so alike to that of her friend that her heart twisted painfully. _Please, let them be alright._ “We’ll have to return to Pandemonium anyway. We can ask around, try to find them.”

Angie looked up. “Really? You’d do that?” She didn’t dare hope, or put too much trust in this man’s words, but… Well, she couldn’t go look for them herself. She couldn’t leave Walden alone.

“Sure. I have to know though – your team, did they get into Pandemonium through that archway thingy at the Department of Mysteries?” Angie nodded as a cold shiver ran down her spine. That dreadful place. “And it’s still there?”

She hesitated. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. Haven’t been there myself, not since…” She trailed off. This was not something she felt comfortable discussing with a near-stranger. She cleared her throat. “Anyway. The problem will be to get you inside the Ministry. Tony and Eddie are on Tom’s Most Wanted list, and that Ripper lady is an Ancient.”

“Tom?”

Angie stared at him. He didn’t know who Tom was? Seriously? “Tom Riddle? Er, He-Who-Shan’t-Be-Named?”

His eyes widened. “Oh, you mean Vol-”

“Hush, you fool!” she hissed at him. “What is _wrong_ with you people? Do you have a death wish?”

“Sorry,” he murmured. He seemed puzzled by her reaction. “But isn’t…Tom…dead?”

“Dead?” she repeated. “He’s fucking invincible!”

The man was silent as he apparently digested this information. Could it mean…? “Is he dead in your world?” she asked quietly. He nodded in reply.

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe it. They’d somehow managed to defeat Tom before he became immortal? It seemed too good to be true. “And Harry… Is he…?”

“Harry’s fine. Most everyone is, really. What the hell happened here?” he wondered. He looked genuinely perturbed.

Well, so was Angie. She opened her eyes and studied him attentively. How much should she reveal? Should she let him know that they’d landed in a moribund dimension, and that the sooner they left, the better for everyone? They had no idea how dangerous their presence here could prove to be, if Tom learned of it. They couldn’t stay here a moment longer than absolutely necessary. “Tom won the war,” she said. “He’s rapidly taking over our world, and he’s unstoppable.” The man opened his mouth, but Angie spoke over him. “If he finds you, it will only make things worse for us. You must depart as soon as we’ve made plans to get you safely inside the Ministry.” Though how they were going to achieve that, she couldn’t begin to imagine. There were always several Wolves on patrol. Even leaving the relative safety of the wards could be fatal.

“But your team got inside, didn’t they?”

“If they’d been caught, I would have heard,” she said with much bitterness. Tom would have made a public announcement for certain. “Tony can turn invisible, and the other two had Harry’s old invisibility cloak. Amy can manipulate the minds of mortals.” Even then, Angie suspected that it had been a close call. They were all immune to magic – both beneficial and malignant, save a few exceptions, notably Apparition. Potions usually had some effect on them, but not for long. There had been no way to conceal their scent, but the few remaining drops of Felix Felicis may have helped.

“The Ripper can control people and our Tony can turn invisible, too.”

“Yes, but you can’t,” Angie pointed out. “We have no invisibility potion, nothing to brew one, and the cloak is gone.”

“You claim that no one knows who I am,” someone said from the doorway. Angie started and turned, wand in hand, but it was just that Ripper woman. Had she been listening to their conversation? How long had she been standing there, eavesdropping? The woman smirked. “Whoa, jumpy much?”

Angie was about to chew her off when a piercing cry resounded throughout the house. Fake Eddie and the Ripper lady exchanged a baffled gaze. The man who called himself Tony but was not her husband ran into the kitchen. “Merlin, is there a _baby_ here?” he asked, eyes wide. He was a vampire, but he still managed to look pallid.

Angie stood up, massaging her temples. “It’s just Walden, waking up from his nap. I’ll go get him. Give me a minute.” She could feel their stunned faces follow her as she walked toward the stairs.

Apparently, their Angie didn’t have a baby.


	27. The Salty Chick and the Tasmanian…animal

Evey sat across from Darya at the breakfast table. The vampire was glaring at her, arms and legs crossed. She hadn’t said a word since she’d entered the house. Had she been raised differently, Evey would have left the woman alone in the kitchen until Malkoran returned. She was almost positive that the Ancient wouldn’t harm her, not after what had happened to the ones who had created thralls to assassinate Evey. The cage in which they were being held was cramped enough, with three captives in it. Since Alice had left on her honeymoon, Darya had been designated their warden, mostly as a punishment.

Evey couldn’t take it anymore. She could remain silent for a long time when she was in pleasant company, but it wasn’t the case now, far from it. “So, um…who’s keeping an eye on the cage, if you’re here?”

More silence greeted her question. “You did leave someone in charge while you were gone, right?” She was worried now, not merely uneasy. What if this was a trap? After all, the four women of the apocalypse had had plenty of time to devise a cunning scheme to murder her, unsupervised as they were. Alice had assured Evey and Walden that Darya wouldn’t dare anger and disappoint her maker (and grandmaker) more than she already had, but who knew what was on the mind of a serial murderer, really? Perhaps she was eager to please Cleopatra and her cronies, so she could join their little club at last.

“Ching’s there,” Darya replied eventually. “She was annoyed with the assignment, let me tell you. You’d better have a mighty good reason to drag me all the way here and making me wait, hybrid.”

“Well, we did mention the reason in our-”

“Your letter made no sense. If Malkoran himself had not requested my presence, I wouldn’t have bothered to even respond. And where’s the Wizard, anyway? The least he could do is welcome me properly in his home. There is such a thing as Ancient etiquette.”

“Tony is…abroad.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, was it?

“And what the hell is a thylacine?”

“A thylacine is an extinct marsupial. It was sometimes called the Tasmanian tiger or wolf.”

Darya frowned as if Evey had spoken Mandarin. Although, as far as Evey knew, Darya actually understood Mandarin. Most of the Ancients were fluent in several languages. “Like that character on the Looney Tunes?”

 _Merlin, she watches the Looney Tunes?_ Evey held back laughter. She didn't want the woman to think she was making fun of her. “That’s a Tasmanian devil.” To be fair, the confusion was understandable.

She jumped at the chance to get out of the room, even for a minute. “Wait, I have pictures.” She half-ran into the conservatory, where they kept their notes regarding the elixir and the ingredients. She’d done extensive research on the animal, but there weren’t any good photographs of it. She gathered what she’d found and returned to the kitchen. “Here.”

Darya barely spared them a glance. “I can’t turn into that thing based on these crappy shots.”

“Well, um…” _Think fast_. “Malkoran could turn into one.” At least she thought so. “Would that help?”

“If he can do it himself, what do you need me for?” Darya demanded.

“The hair we need must be plucked by an ambidextrous person-”

“But your message said you only needed the one hair.” Evey blinked. _So?_ Darya rolled her eyes. “Why do you need someone who’s ambidextrous if you only need _one_ hair? Do they need to use a specific hand, or both?”

Evey checked the ingredient list that she kept in her pocket at all times. “Um…it’s not specified.”

This was weird. But potion-making was oft complicated, with conditions that may seem ridiculous but were indeed necessary. There was a common household sleeping draught that required a left-handed potioneer to add the last ingredient (with his _right_ hand), otherwise it made the sleep-deprived person bark like a dog for an entire day (and didn’t help them sleep at all).

Magic was silly, sometimes. That was one of the reasons why Evey loved it so much.

Darya groaned. Clearly, she didn’t find magic’s whimsies endearing. “Why do you even need this thing?”

Had she read their message at all? “To brew an elixir. To save someone’s life.”

“Whose life?”

Blimey, first she was creepily silent, now she wouldn’t shut up. “A friend's.”

“What friend?” Darya insisted.

She was worse than a five-year-old kid. “Sirius Black.”

“Isn’t he that guy who escaped from Alcatraz a few years back?”

Just in time, Evey remembered not to giggle. “Azkaban. And yes.”

“Yeah, he killed his best friend or something.” Evey had not realised that the Ancients read wizarding newspapers. Harry had given an official press conference to clear Sirius’s name, though. It had made the headlines for a week. Darya must have missed that. “Why are you trying to save a murderer’s life?”

How could she possibly sound so judgemental? She’d killed dozens of people in her time!

“Because he’s a friend,” Evey replied through gritted teeth, “and he was innocent all along. He was-”

“Why is the leader of the Wolves involved in this absurd affair?”

 _And now she’s jumping from pillar to post. Maybe she’s going senile. How old is she, anyway? Two, three hundred years old?_ “Mal is assisting us because-”

“Mal? Such familiarity with the Elder is inappropriate, hybrid. Show some respect to your betters. You’re lucky enough to be alive. Don’t push your luck.”

 _My betters? I hope she’s not including herself in that group, the bloodthirsty bitch._ Of course, Evey didn’t say that aloud. “As I was saying-”

“Where’s the mongrel, anyway?”

Merlin, she was so infuriating! Also, it was one thing to call her a hybrid, but _that_ word was prohibited in this house. “Do not-”

“Ugh, asleep, he must be. I keep forgetting he’s an abomination. Silly me.” Darya smirked. “Or did you dispose of him when you finally realised that the fledgling was in lo-”

“We’re back!” someone called from the back door. _Mal. Thank the gods_. It was unlike him to shout like that, but it did put an end to whatever insult Darya was building up to.

The Ancient stood when Malkoran entered the room. “Elder,” she greeted him in unctuous tones. “I am honoured-”

Mal gave her a hard look. “Sit down and speak only if you are spoken to.” Surprisingly, she did, though with a pout.

That was…harsh. He was usually cordial around everyone, unless they gave him a reason not to be. “Hey. Is everything alright?”

He spared her a smile. “Yes. I bear good news, but it’ll have to wait until our…guest has departed. Do you have the tweezers?”

Evey nodded; they were in her pocket. “You’ll have to demonstrate for her, though. She doesn’t know what animal it is, and she claims that the photographs are...” Crappy was the word she’d used, but it wouldn’t do. “…of poor quality.”

Mal glowered at the Ancient. “We sent our missive days ago. You had plenty of time to do some research and practice the transformation. This is a waste of valuable time.”

“I don’t have to obey you, Wolf,” Darya hissed. “I came here as a courtesy, not because-”

“You will do as you are told, otherwise you will rot in that cage with your sisters. Your Mother may have pardoned your latest crime, but you have much for which to atone.” Oh, he was pissed off, alright. Why, Evey had no idea, but she enjoyed seeing Darya squirm under the Alpha’s gaze. “I will demonstrate only once. You had better pay attention.”

Too late, Evey noticed that Estelle was at the door. Her face didn’t change when Mal went from human to marsupial form in a matter of milliseconds. Did she know he could do this?

The thylacine, all in all, was nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like the result of the ill-advised mating of a tiger and a wolf, but it could have passed for a cross-breed dog, too. Darya nodded. “That will suffice, Elder. I can copy you from there.”

Evey didn’t know how much Mal understood when he was in animal form – was he as lucid as when he turned into a werewolf? – but he returned to his human body when Darya spoke.

His naked human body.

Evey’s neck swivelled so fast that she heard a _crack_. She could feel her cheeks burn, even though she’d caught only a glimpse… Ah, but she _had_ caught a glimpse. Good gods.

She heard a woman chuckle, but she didn’t dare turn to see which one it was. “Are you decent?” she muttered after a moment.

She heard some rustling behind her. “Yes,” Mal replied after a moment. There was unmistakable amusement in his voice. Evey’s cheeks were on fire; she was going to burst into flames. She couldn’t turn around. She could never face him again, let alone meet his eyes.

She would have to Obliviate this moment out of her mind. There was no other solution.

“Um, well, you don’t really need me here, anyway. I’ll just...” She frantically patted her pockets to find the tweezers. Ah, there they were. She threw them on the table without looking. “There. I’ll be outside.” She didn’t wait for a response. She had to shoulder Estelle out of the way. The bloody woman was laughing her arse off.

Evey went out the back door and into the woods. She needed air. Fresh air. Unfortunately, it was still warm. It was better than to be cloistered in the kitchen with Mal and two people she couldn’t stand, though, especially after what had just happened.

She’d reacted like an idiot. She’d made an utter fool of herself. What the hell was wrong with her? It was nothing she hadn’t seen before. _Thank Hades that Walden wasn’t there._

“ _You’re welcome._ ”

Evey made a strangled noise. Even Hades had witnessed the scene.

“ _Highly entertaining, as usual._ ”

“You could have…” Could have what? Warned her that Wolves ripped their clothes when they transformed and ended up butt-naked afterwards? She knew that already. “…teleported me to Antarctica to spare me this crushing humiliation,” she finished, her words barely audible.

“ _Feverish as you were, you would have gone right through the several layers of ice and sunk into the water below. Would have boiled the poor fishy, too. It would have been an environmental disaster, and global warming does enough damage to the ice sheet as it is._ ”

Sometimes Evey wished Persephone would manifest herself, instead of her cheeky husband. The goddess would have sympathised. She would not have mocked Evey’s predicament. “Why are you always spying on us, anyway? Well, on _me_? Don’t you have anything better to do? A rival to turn into a flower? An innocent maiden to violate?”

“ _I’m not my brother_ ,” he said in a sulky tone. “ _I only did that once. Speaking of, Persephone is gone again, and she won’t be back for a while. I must pass the time somehow._ ”

“I’m not the only person in the world! Surely other people are having more interesting adventures as we speak...”

“ _More interesting, sure, but more amusing? Not really_.”

“What do I do now?” she whispered, more to herself than to the intrusive god. “Estelle is never going to let me live this down.”

“ _Estelle is not going to be around forever_ ,” Hades noted.

“Well, Mal is!”

“ _Ah, yes, that’s the problem with immortal beings. They tend to live for a rather long time._ ”

“Evangeline?” Mal called. “We are done here. Darya is gone.” There was a pause. "Everyone is wearing a decent amount of clothes." Evey bit down on her lip. “Estelle is in the conservatory. The hair has to be stored in an oaken case until we use it. May we discuss the next steps of our endeavour? I know where to find Hunac, and Erik has finally given sign of life.”

Evey neither spoke nor moved.

“ _You’ll have to talk to him sooner or later, girl. The longer you wait, the more difficult it will become.”_

He had a point there. She couldn’t ignore Mal forever. She needed him. “I’m coming!” Then, to Hades: _Quit eavesdropping on us. Go pay a visit to the Queen or something._

“ _Who, Lizzie? She’s not as interesting as you might think. And she's_ _in the loo, actually."_

 _I did_ not _need to know that. You’ve ruined monarchy for me._

“ _Well, she’s the Queen of Muggles. Why should you care?_ ”

“She’s the Queen of us all! We have different Ministers, but she’s everyone's Queen.” If anyone other than Mal happened to witness her half-spoken, half-telepathic conversation, she would end up in an asylum for sure.

“ _Fair enough, but she doesn’t actually do anything. She holds little to no power. Why’s she so important?_ ”

“You’re not British. You wouldn’t understand.” And Evey couldn’t quite explain it. The Queen was the Queen. She was important because she was. “Now if you’ll excuse me, _I_ , for one, have important matters to attend to.” She marched back toward the house, determination holding her upright because, to be honest, her knees seemed to be made of jelly.

Malkoran was seated at the breakfast table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He looked up when she walked in. Evey immediately wished she’d ran into the woods in Wolf form and hidden in the dragon’s lair. The sensation that her cheeks were being slowly roasted over a firepit returned. “Are you feeling well?” he asked. He sounded concerned rather than amused, now.

“I’m fine.” She averted her gaze but sat across from him, focusing her attention on her hands. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Hunac is in Berlin. Hannibal says he checked into a hotel suite and booked it for several days.”

Berlin. Well, it wasn’t too far. “When can we visit him?”

“It is best to go during the day, because he is busy at night. But we can go any time you want. Today, if it suits you.”

Leave Walden in the middle of the day to go to Germany with Mal, alone? That sounded like a terrible idea, but they were pressed for time. Besides, they only needed a few words with the Wolf. They should be back before dark. “We can’t afford to delay, so today will do.” There was, however, a slight issue. “I’ve never used the illegal Apparition network on my own, let alone transported someone else with me through it.” The only reason why they still used illegal Apparition across borders was that it was much, _much_ faster. Travelling abroad was an administrative nightmare, and it often landed one in the middle of nowhere, rather than close to a landmark. It was obviously safer that way, but quite unpractical. “We could Apparate near the Brandenburg Gate, but I’m not sure I want to risk it. I couldn’t kill you even if I wanted to, but splinching is quite unpleasant and you’ve already had your heart removed recently…”

“We could wait for Walden, but I don’t know if Hunac will be at the hotel at night. Hannibal said he was on tour with a band and attending all of their concerts.”

Uh. That was unexpected. She almost looked Mal in the eyes before she remembered that she was avoiding that at the moment. “Which band?” She doubted it would be a super famous one, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I…didn’t enquire,” Mal said. “My apologies. I didn’t think it was important.”

Evey shook her head. “It’s really not. I was just curious.” The problem of transportation remained. Wait for Walden to wake up, or… “We could ask Estelle to take us there, I suppose.” Her tone made it clear that it wasn’t her preferred option.

“We could,” Mal concurred. “It’s up to you. I need to be present, whatever you choose. Without me, Hunac may refuse to even talk to you.”

“It never crossed my mind to leave you behind,” she said truthfully. No matter that she’d just seen him naked and would prefer to never see him again altogether, even if he was her friend. When the elixir was brewed and Sirius returned to life – in her mind, there was no doubt that it would happen, eventually – they could keep in touch via the telephone rather than in person. It would satisfy everyone, Walden especially.

Malkoran smiled, though she only saw it from the corner of her eye.

“Estelle,” she decided. “We should go today. Now, in fact. No point lazing around the house when we could be doing something useful instead. Walden will understand.” If they returned before nightfall, he might never know that Evey had left at all. “But first, you said something about Erik?”

“He will be happy to assist us,” Mal said. “He will be available in a few days, which leaves us ample time to find the Chaca bark and, hopefully, summon a Cherufe demon.” They would have to harvest that creature’s steaming saliva, according to the formula. What fun. “That way, the Valhalla ingredients will be the last we need. Then we can begin brewing the potion.”

Four ingredients left – well, five, if you counted the Valkyrie feather they’d promised Estelle. Evey was right to be optimistic. They would succeed, she knew it. Tony, Ted and the Ripper would be back just in time to make Sirius drink the elixir and everything would be fine. Harry would be delighted. They would be awarded an Order of Merlin for their daring awesomeness-

“Evey?”

She blinked, then realised she was staring directly at Mal. He’d called her Evey again, she noticed as she lowered her gaze. He did that more and more often. In the early days, Walden had been disproportionately annoyed when Mal called her by her full name, but now that he was finally using the diminutive form, Walden seemed even _more_ annoyed.

Men. There was simply no understanding them.

“You were saying?” she said.

“It’s almost midday. We should go, if you want us to be back before Walden awakens.”

She did. In fact, she prayed for it. Hades sniggered in her head.


	28. I promise I will return your heart to you

Tony stared after Evey as she disappeared up the stairs. “A _baby_?” he repeated for the third time. He turned wild, panicked eyes at Ted. “You think it’s hers? You think it’s _ours_?”

Ted spread his hands. “You heard the same things I did, mate. I could sense another presence upstairs, but when she called it Walden, I assumed it was your brother, asleep for the day, and I didn’t think more of it…” The Ripper and Tony had been eavesdropping from the living room, of course, and they’d assumed the same thing. “It’s not _yours_ , though, that much I do know. For one thing, you’ve never slept with this woman and, for another, Ancients can’t father children.”

“That’s not what Fenrir said,” he reminded Ted. “According to the demon, Evey could have children with an Ancient or a Wolf, and-”

The Ripper scoffed. “You really believed that? Come on, fledgling, it’s ridiculous.” She was careful to avoid looking at Ted, Tony noticed.

“Weren’t you one of those who were hoping that Evey could do just that? After she was rescued, you wanted to see if she could-”

“She refused to give it a try and, frankly, I think it was for the best. She’s already a hybrid species, can you imagine what sort of abomination she could spawn?”

Count on her to be blunt and not at all helpful in this tremendously awkward situation. When there was nothing around for her to kill, the Ripper was pretty much useless, Tony decided.

“Look, maybe we should focus on getting out of here, don’t you think? Finding out who begot that baby is not relevant,” Ted said.

“But you heard Evey!” Tony insisted. “Their world is…it’s a mess. And she was obviously holding things back. Seems to me that it’s even worse than she let on. We can’t just abandon them-”

“We can,” the Ripper snapped, “and we will. We don’t know these people. I’m not staying in this world if it’s about to collapse. Our world is shitty enough, thank you very much. I’m going to squeeze that bloody snake all over Loki’s body until it dissolves into nothingness!” she exclaimed, fists clenched.

“But-” Tony clamped his mouth shut when he heard Evey come down the stairs, but he glared at the Ripper. They had to do _something_.

The baby wasn’t wailing anymore. Tony guessed that he was about one year old. His eyes were…well, they were Evey’s. The exact same colour. “It _is_ yours,” he whispered.

Evey looked up at him with a frown. “Of course it’s mine. I didn’t kidnap him, for Harry’s sake.”

“Right. And who is the, um…” he began uncertainly.

She rolled her eyes. “My _husband_ is the father. Who else could it be? I don’t sleep around!”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he apologised. “I wasn’t trying to imply-”

“So it’s true,” Ted said softly. “You can bear children.”

Evey appeared to calm down. Ted often had a soothing effect on people. “It did come as a bit of a shock to everyone,” she admitted. “To me, especially. If I’d known it was a possibility, I would have used birth control,” she went on in a low voice, as if she were afraid that Walden would hear. If he understood that he was not planned, however, it didn’t show. He was gurgling joyfully and playing with his mother’s hair.

“I love him to bits,” Evey said with a certain fierceness, in case they dared question her love for her baby. “But bringing a child into this world was pure folly. I shouldn’t have let Tony convince me.” She sighed. “Tony and the rest of them. They were all so…so ecstatic, so in awe. It was like I was the bloody Virgin Mary.”

“Well, it’s nothing short of a miracle,” Ted said. He did look in awe of the baby, Tony noted. His gaze went from Walden to the Ripper and then back. It was quite obvious what he was thinking, but the Ripper ignored him and the baby both. “Is he…special in any way? Does he have any Ancient traits?”

“He hasn’t exhibited any of their traits, no…” Evey answered. “Not yet, anyway. He’s a perfectly normal baby. He cries and poops a lot, sleeps at night and naps during the day, drinks milk…”

Tony hesitated for a moment, but his curiosity, as usual, got the better of him. “Where’s the other Walden, then? The adult one?”

There was a long pause. “Dead,” Evey said eventually. “We named the baby after him.” She glanced at Tony, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Is…is yours alive?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the guts. Memories flashed. Walden’s corpse, lying on the cold stone floor, wand extended toward the spot where Greyback must have Disapparated with Evey. Tony’s instinctual decision. He’d never even considered the alternative: to let Walden die. No; his brother was dead, and Tony had the ability to bring him back. It wasn’t even a question, really. Only afterwards had he begun to grasp the consequences of his action, but he never once regretted it. He would have made the same choice every time.

Did it mean that this world’s Tony had _not_ turned Walden? Or had Walden died in a way that prevented Tony to turn him? Had an Ancient stopped him from doing it, or someone else? Perhaps Evey herself – if she hadn’t been abducted by Greyback, his Evey might have done just that. She knew that Walden didn’t want to be a vampire. “He’s…undead, technically,” he replied.

Evey scowled. “Undead? What do you mean? Is he a vampire?”

“Yeah, I…I turned him. Selfishly, and against his will, but I did it anyway.”

Her scowl deepened. “So he’s an Ancient, then? That’s odd. Tony never mentioned that his brother had the spark.”

“He doesn’t,” the Ripper barked. “He’s a measly vampire, not an Ancient. The fledgling squandered his one shot.”

Evey turned three shades lighter. “That’s… Bloody hell, I didn’t even know it was possible to do that.”

It didn’t seem like such a big deal to Tony, especially considering this Evey’s improbable achievement, but he was used to Walden being alive. Well, being a vampire. Just like this Evey was used to having a baby.

“Just because something’s possible means it should be done,” the Ripper said. “The fledgling almost died for his crime, and his brother with him. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure why we allowed the mongrel to-”

“Will you stop calling him that?!” Tony shouted. “I’ve warned you multiple times already. His name is Walden. And _my_ name is Tony, not fledgling. If you persist, I might just start using your true name, _Jack._ ”

_Did I just threaten Jack the Ripper?_

_Damn right I did. She had it coming._

_And she can’t kill me anyway._

She was watching him with that predatory gaze of hers. Her lips quirked up as if she wanted to bare her fangs. Ted seemed to be considering holding her shoulders, but in the end thought better of it.

Incongruously, Walden broke off the heavy silence by letting out a gleeful baby sound.

“Let’s get back on tracks,” the Ripper said. “The less we know about this dimension, the less guilty we’ll feel about leaving it to fend for itself.” Always the practical one. Tony sometimes envied her that ability to stay detached, no matter the circumstances. Maybe he’d master it, in a century or two… “You were talking about getting inside the Ministry.” Evey nodded curtly. “And you also said…” There was a brief hesitation here. “…you said I didn’t exist in this world. That you’d never heard of me.”

“Nope, never.”

To the Ripper, it had to be her worst nightmare come true. It was what she’d seen, going through the malfunctioning portal: a world where she never fulfilled her life-long dream of gruesome murder.

“Well, then, they won’t suspect me. I could say I’m bringing in these two to be interrogated at the Department of Mysteries. With a bit of manipulating, if necessary.”

Evey shook her head. “For one thing, your ability doesn’t work on Wolves and, for another, the guards will recognise you for what you are right away. The few Ancients who work for Tom are public figures, and only Tony has the ability to make a new one. You won’t make it past the entrance. You might not even make it to London."

“What are you saying, lass?” Ted asked. “There are Wolves at the Ministry?”

“Yes.” Evey didn’t expand on the matter. “There’ll be at least two, more likely four or five.”

“Then we’ll kill them,” the Ripper said. “ _I_ will kill them,” she corrected herself.

Evey seemed to think it over. “Well…I suppose you could simply charge in,” she said. “But more Wolves will come. They each have their own personal wizard for urgent Apparition. And there will be Death Eaters, Dementors…”

Merlin, was it really that bad? Why were the Wolves involved? “How many Wolves are there, in this world? The way you said it, it sounded like an army could materialise at any moment, but there are only fourteen Ancients, right? That’s what you told Ted earlier.”

Evey bit her lower lip. She was about to lie or defect the question, Tony knew. “No one knows for certain. Since Tom took over, the Wolves turn everyone who has the spark. There may be as many as forty or fifty of them, by now.”

Mm. She hadn’t mentioned the Ancients at all. That couldn’t be a good sign. “And they all work for…Tom?” Merlin, _fifty_ Wolves.

Evey nodded. “Except for Eddie and Malkoran, yes.”

Tony could tell that she was withholding information. Likely something to do with the Wolves and Ancients, but he wasn’t sure exactly what.

The Ripper cleared her throat to get their attention. “We’ll make a run for the archway. Kill everything in our path if need be. We can do it. They’re not likely to follow us inside Pandemonium, are they?” She made it sound like a rhetorical question, but she looked like she’d appreciate confirmation regardless.

“I don’t know,” Evey admitted. “But you don’t quite understand how dangerous this…plan of yours is.” It wasn’t much of a plan, granted. “You cannot be caught alive. And if they do decide to come after you… Harry knows what they could find on the other side to make matters even worse.” She paled even further.

She was reluctant to tell them exactly what was going on here, because she had no reason to trust them, but Tony understood that they had to find another way inside the Ministry. They could probably handle one Wolf or two, but several at once? Tony was still a lousy fighter and his magic would be useless, Ted couldn’t damage his peers permanently, and the Ripper, no matter how apt she may be, was only one person. He wasn’t too fond of her, but he didn’t want her to end up like Jeanne, giving her life to protect him.

“Let me try something,” he said. “It will only take a minute, and if it doesn’t work, we can craft another plan. A better one.” The Ripper threw him a venomous look. Well, no offence, but her plan was terrible, regardless of Evey’s reluctance to draw the Wolves’ attention. Ted and Evey were eyeing him questioningly. Tony did his best to ignore their dubious gazes. “Lord Hades,” he spoke to the floor – that was where the Underworld was, right? – “we’ve got a bit of a situation here, and we could use your assistance. It would contribute to helping another Evey, and we all know how much you enjoy bantering with her.”

As he’d feared, nothing happened.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. Evey was smirking. “Does he often talk to the floor like that?” she asked of no one in particular.

“He’s trying to _help_ you, you ingrate,” the Ripper growled. “My, but you’re even more sarcastic than the other one.”

Evey sniffed. “How is that supposed to help? You seriously think some dead deity is going to rise from the Underworld to-”

“He’s not dead, you know. That’s a common misconception,” someone called from the doorway. The voice was youthful, musical.

It wasn’t Hades, of that Tony was quite certain. The newcomer was a pretty girl with luxurious dark hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a yellow summer dress but she was barefoot. She flashed them a bright smile. “I’m sorry, I know you expected my husband, but he’s not allowed to interfere in this world. It belongs to me.”

Husband? Ooh, that was an easy one. You didn’t need to be a complete nerd to figure it out. “You’re Persephone,” Tony said. The goddess beamed at him. “That’s great!” Even better than Hades, in truth. The god didn’t seem to like Tony very much.

“Aw, don’t think that,” Persephone said. “He does like you. He’s just a bit grumpy, is all.”

Right. Mind reading. Better not forget about that. “Thank you for coming, um…my lady.” He wasn’t sure what the correct form of address was.

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself with that,” the goddess said. “Call me Persi.”

Tony smiled gratefully. “Um, what did you mean by ‘it belongs to me’? Do you… _own_ this world?”

“I do!” she exclaimed. “When Hades chose to become the god of your home world, we realised that it had a twin. Twin worlds are extremely rare. I just _had_ to pick this one, so that our worlds could evolve together. It’s so interesting to compare them! There are so few worlds left that have humans in them…”

“Well, this one’s about to have only rogue Wolves and demonic creatures in it,” Evey said bitterly. “Your world is dying, Persi, in case you hadn’t noticed.” She was just as irreverent as his Evey, and she seemed utterly unimpressed by the goddess, though Tony was certain that they’d never met before – not like his Evey and Hades, who were practically best friends.

Persephone laughed, and the sound was so enthralling that Tony almost forgot to listen to what she was saying. “You poor thing! It’s not dying, not at all. It will get better, I’m sure. I have faith in you.”

“How?” Evey demanded. “Are you going to kill Tom? Destroy all of the-”

“Oh, dear me, no! I can’t do that.” The goddess chuckled sheepishly. “We’re very limited in our actions, I’m afraid. But you’ll find a way, I’m sure you will.”

Walden was staring wide-eyed at the goddess, and he let out a little gasp. When Persephone turned her eyes on him, her face changed. “Awww, would you look at that! It’s so tiny!” she said in a high-pitched voice. She took several steps forward and booped Walden’s nose delicately. He giggled. “Isn’t he adorable?” she cooed. “I miss babies so much! Oh, really, I miss humans in general. You’re so strange and delightful and fascinating! I wish I could visit more often, but I used most of my allotted time during the first age of men. If I’d known you were going to develop speech so soon, I would have waited a few millennia…”

The Ripper cleared her throat before the goddess could ramble on. Her voice wasn’t full of her usual bluntness, but she didn’t mince her words, either. “My lady, is there anything you can do to help us?”

“Oi, she’s _our_ goddess,” Evey protested. “She’s here to help us, not you. You can’t have both Hades and Persephone, you greedy-!”

The goddess eyed her chidingly. “Now, now, that’s not the sort of behaviour I expect from my adoring humans. You must learn to share, dear. Besides, by helping _them_ ,” she pointed at Tony, Ted and the Ripper, “I can help _you_. And then everyone’s happy!”

Evey narrowed her eyes. “How so?”

“Well, your salvation lies with your husband,” Persephone said. “Your friends and he, who are currently stuck in Pandemonium, know how to stop this…Tom villain.”

“If you know what they know, can’t you just tell me how to stop Tom? That’ll save us some time.”

“Oh, no, that’s…too much responsibility. All those… No, I couldn’t possibly.” Before Evey could insist, Persephone went on. “Anyway, these lovely people want to return to Pandemonium, so we can…what’s the expression…kill two birds with one stone?” Tony nodded encouragingly. “If you rescue the people who belong to my world, then they can return here and save it, and you can go back to my husband’s world and save the mortal who’s lying unconscious on the couch. It’s a win-win situation for everyone!” She gave them all a radiant smile.

“Rescue _my_ people from what?” Evey asked. She looked queasy.

“They’re being held…somewhere. I can’t tell you much more than that, not because I’m not allowed, but because I don’t know. I don’t have a clear knowledge of what’s going on in Pandemonium. But I’m sure that our talented team here will find them easily.”

“And how exactly do you propose to return these idiots to Pandemonium safely?” Evey seemed annoyed by the goddess’s cheerful optimism. “The Ministry is too well-guarded, and you can’t kill anyone.”

“There are other portals that lead to the Demon Realm, dear.”

“There are?” Tony said. “Where?”

Persephone disappeared.

“What the-”

The goddess resurfaced before Evey could finish her sentence. They would never know which word she was going to use. Although, knowing Evey, it would have been the worst one.

Persephone replied as if she had not just vanished without warning. “The closest portal, other than the crumbly old thing you used at the Ministry of Magic…well, my husband tells me that you’ve been near it and therefore know the location,” she told Tony.

Of course, everyone looked at him, Evey glowering as though he’d withheld essential information on purpose. “I…what? No, it must be a misunderstanding. The only other portal I’ve ever used leads to Middle-earth. That’s not…”

“No, no, it’s here, in this lovely Queendom of yours,” Persephone insisted. “There is a vile creature… Hades says you sought out its den and hunted it down.” Her nose crinkled in disgust. “The Questing Beast. The Prophet, the Seer.”

“The Questing Beast’s lair? That’s where the portal to Pandemonium is?”

“That’s where it comes from when it is summoned,” the goddess explained. “And where it returns after it’s killed. It takes twenty years for it to reform in the abyss where it was forged.”

“But, um…what happens if we let it out and don’t track it down? Isn’t it dangerous to set it loose?”

“Wouldn’t worry about that,” Evey muttered. “Hasn’t been twenty years yet.”

“Oh, you tried that too, uh?” Tony said. She made no comment. He wondered who’d accompanied the two of them on the quest, if Walden was dead. Probably Ted. From the look on Evey’s face, they hadn’t been any more successful than Tony and his team. “But will the portal open even if the Beast’s not there?” he asked Persephone.

She nodded. “You must speak its name to activate it.”

“But…we don’t know its name.”

“Oh, I suppose you don’t. It’s been lost to the ages.” She paused, eyes unfocused, as though she was listening to something none of them could hear. Her form became ghostly, nearly transparent. Then she blinked and returned to a more solid body. “Thankfully,” she announced with a smile, “I am permitted to reveal it to you. She was given the name _Sambethe_ at birth...when she was still human.” She clapped her hands loudly. “Now, I’m afraid I must depart – I’ve stayed too long already – but I’m sure you will do great! You are all beautiful human beings and I believe in you! You’re stronger and braver than you know!” Persephone was better at pep talks than her husband, Tony thought. “Aw, thank you! You’re such a sweet man. I hope your Evey will come around eventually.” Her gaze strayed toward baby Walden, a yearning expression blooming on her delicate face. “Such a shame,” she whispered. “But it’s a necessary sa-”

She vanished again.

Evey glowered at the empty spot where the goddess had stood. “A necessary what? What does she mean, _such a shame_?” Her arms tightened protectively around Walden.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Tony lied. These last words had chilled him to the bone. _A necessary sa…crifice? Gods, I hope not._ Why would they need to sacrifice a baby to save the world? It made no sense. She must have been going for another word. Sandwich. Salvation. Safekeeping. Could have been anything, really.

“We should go,” the Ripper said. “No point wasting any more time here.”

“How about you guys go ahead? I’ll join you in a minute,” Tony said.

“We can’t Apparate without you, fledgling,” the Ripper said, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

She was still calling him fledgling…but Tony didn’t care about that now. “Then just…wait outside with Sirius. One minute? Please?”

She groaned, but Ted ushered her out with one last smile to Evey. She waved at him sadly, then glared at Tony. “What now?”

Tony took a few hesitant steps toward her, and baby Walden extended a pudgy hand in his direction. “Daaah. Dah!”

“No, no, sweetie. Wrong daddy,” Evey murmured.

Tony felt a lump in his throat. Bloody hell. Why did these things keep happening to him? “I’d take you with us if I could,” he said. “To our world, where it's safe. But Pandemonium is-”

Evey scoffed. “You really think I’d go with you? Why would I do that?”

“You said it yourself. Your world…”

“…is falling apart. But it’s my world, and I intend to see this through. If the nauseatingly optimistic goddess says we can turn things around, we have to give it a try, at least.”

“Okay, I just… I had a question, before I go,” he said hesitantly.

“I have one, too,” she said. “Do you really call her _Evey_ , in your world?”

That…was a somewhat underwhelming question. “Er, yeah, Evey, or just V. Why? What do people call you?”

“Angie.”

For some reason, that did the trick – this, more than anything else that was warped and wrong in this world, allowed him to separate this woman from the one he…from his Evey. It didn’t change the fact that he felt the need to do anything he could do to help her, though, not in the least.

“What was your question?”

Oh, right. He was embarrassed to ask, but he _had_ to know. “Do you really love him? Tony, I mean? Or was he just a…convenient rebound, after Walden died?”

She stared at him like he was speaking Klingon. “Rebound?” Before he could clarify, she went on. “Of course I love him. He’s my husband, he’s my whole life. He’s my soulmate. When he left, he took my heart with him. I can’t imagine what I’ll do without him, if he doesn’t come back…” She trailed off, her voice straining at the end.

_He’s my soulmate._ In this twin world of theirs, Tony and Evey – well, Angie – were soulmates. The demons must have mixed them up. That explained why they kept insisting on it; they thought Tony was this world’s Tony. It was all a big misunderstanding. “We’ll get your friends back,” Tony promised. “Your heard Persephone. Everything will be alright in the end.” Well, that was…sort of what she’d said, wasn’t it? If you didn’t count her ominous last words.

“Thank you,” Evey said softly. For the first time, her face was devoid of suspicion. Some of the tension seemed to leave her shoulders.

“Take care, Angie.” He started to walk away from them, his dead, unbeating heart twisting painfully in his chest.

“Say bye, Walden,” Evey said behind him.

“Baaaah!” the baby exclaimed.

Oh, gods. If they couldn’t find their “twins” in Pandemonium, Tony would never forgive himself.


	29. Dass ich froh bin, darf nicht sein

Evangeline’s eyes were fastened on the silver doors of the elevator. She was gnawing on her lower lip and fidgeting restlessly.

“Is something the matter?” Mal asked.

“I hate elevators,” she muttered in reply.

That explained part of what he sensed from her; her agitation, namely, but nothing else. Why was she embarrassed? Why did she refuse to look at him, why had she barely spoken two words to him since they’d left Scotland? “Did I do something to upset you?” he insisted. There had been that business back at the house, but surely she was over it by now. Her cheeks reddened alarmingly. Perhaps it did bother her more than he thought. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Werewolves are not a prudish lot. It’s our way of life.”

“Friends are not supposed to see each other naked.” Her voice was barely audible, even to him. “Why, if you saw _me_ naked, you’d be embarrassed too, wouldn’t you?”

He knew what she wanted to hear, and he ought to reassure her, but it was too tempting. “I’ve pictured you naked quite a few times,” he said, deadpan, “and believe me, embarrassment is not what I felt.”

She gaped at him, meeting his eyes for the first time in hours. Her scent was a complex combination of outrage and amusement. “Don’t say things like that!”

_Why not? Walden’s not here_ , _we're allowed to banter amicably,_ he thought of saying. But that was a touchy subject. “I’m sorry.”

She sniffed. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I am not,” he confirmed with a lazy grin just as the doors opened.

Evangeline moved past him to exit the elevator she dreaded so much and breathed deeply. “Let’s focus on the task at hand. We don’t have much time.”

The trip to Berlin had taken the better part of an hour because, as it turned out, their destination, a fancy hotel near the concert place called Parkbühne Wuhlheide, was nowhere near the Brandenburg Gate. Estelle had to Apparate to five different locations before they found the right spot, just outside the hotel. The French woman had left them to deal with their business while she went shopping. They needed a black flame candle for the summoning ritual of the Cherufe demon, she'd told Mal, as well as some goat blood. They were set to rendezvous in two hours.

Mal followed Evangeline along the corridor. “There’s the room.” It was a penthouse suite, whatever that was. He knocked on the door.

At first he heard nothing inside, though he could tell that there were several people in the room. Then someone shuffled toward the door and opened it wide.

The good news was that it was the person they were looking for.

The bad news was that-

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Evangeline yelled. She turned around and nearly keeled over with her usual grace. “Is every man I see today going to be naked? Why the hell would you open the door without covering yourself?”

Hunac frowned at her quizzically, though he didn’t seem surprised to see Mal. “What’s with her?” he asked in German.

“She’s…not used to…” He gestured widely.

“Mm. A virgin, so old? Or is she just prudish?” Mal had answered in English, so that Evangeline could understand him, but Hunac went on in German. Which was probably for the best, all things considered.

“Can you please put something on? We need to talk, if you have a moment.”

Hunac shrugged but complied. He closed the door and returned a moment later, wearing black trousers. “Will that do?”

Mal nodded and poked Evangeline’s shoulder to signal that she could turn around. She did so reluctantly. “Seriously, mate, what’s wrong with you?”

“You murdered Greyback,” Hunac replied without pause, and in English, this time.

Obviously, Evangeline had not expected that. “I, um… Technically, it wasn’t me. Also, he had it coming.”

“Judge, jury and executioner, are you?”

“It wasn’t _me_ ,” she repeated.

Mal raised a hand to prevent the argument to degenerate. “Enough of this. May we come in? We won’t be long.”

Hunac smirked. “If this precious little thing was shocked to see me in my birthday suit, I have reason to believe that she will faint if she sees what’s inside.”

“Why would you defend Greyback?” Evangeline insisted. “He was violent and he killed people for sport. The world is a better and safer place without him.”

“He was a young Wolf,” Hunac said calmly, “and Grigori was his mentor. Goldeneyes valued freedom above all else and believed that Wolves were superior to the human race.”

“Is that what you believe? That because you’re stronger, because you’re immortal, you’re better than us?”

_Us_. Did she still think of herself as a mere mortal?

Hunac shook his head. “I think superiority of race is irrelevant. Greyback didn’t care about it, either. What he wanted was for his cubs to be free – not free to rampage and hunt humans, but to _exist_. Werewolves deserve the same rights as everyone else. They deserve to have a life.”

Mal could sense Evangeline’s confusion. She believed that, too, but she was reluctant to agree with something Greyback had believed in.

Hunac turned to look at Mal, not right in the eyes, but close enough. He acknowledged the fact that Mal was his Alpha, but he didn’t fully accept it. He never had. Wolves, unlike werewolves, were meant to be their own Alpha, Malkoran had come to believe. He was trying to come up with a way to explain that to them without completely surrendering his authority in certain matters – to become more of a valued adviser than a tyrant, in other words. “Wolves deserve to have a life, too. That’s what Grigori and Damian wanted you to know, Alpha – but you weren’t there to hear their pleas, which is why they went astray.”

Oh great, a reminder of his multiple failures and of the fact that he had abandoned his cubs for decades. It had been a while.

“But you do have a life,” Evangeline protested. “You’re freer than any werewolf. You can hold a job. You can buy property. You can travel to any country in the world. You don’t have to be registered, and you don’t have to bankrupt yourself to obtain Wolfsbane. You’re your own boss. Well, there’s Mal, I guess, but…”

“I think he’s talking about the secrecy they must observe,” Mal interrupted her.

“To act in accordance with the wizards’ Statute of Secrecy makes sense,” Hunac said, “since it’s not our place to reveal their existence to the non-magic people, but we should be allowed to tell _some_ people. We cannot start a family without being honest about who we are. You of all people should understand the importance of having someone in whom to confide, with whom to share in our joys and sufferings. You have denied us this simple human right for centuries, Alpha, and yet you expect us to retain our humanity… Just because the Mother of Vampires spurned you, means _your_ children must suffer the same fate. It is unfair.”

“This is getting too intense for me,” Evangeline muttered. “Not what I expected from a half-naked bloke who’s clearly been partying all night.”

_Tell me about it_ , Mal thought. He never knew that Hunac felt this way – he took his reluctance to follow orders and show respect as defiance for the sake of it, as if Hunac were a rebellious teenager. How had he missed this? Why hadn’t anyone told him this centuries ago? Ramesses, his wisest councillor, his _friend_ , had never even mentioned it. If he’d known how they felt, he would have made the rules more flexible. He would have at least considered it.

_What we've got here is failure to communicate._ Ah, Evangeline and her popular culture references. So many random quotes stuck in his brains from watching films…

“But Ted has been in plenty of relationships,” Evangeline said. “It’s not impossible to find love without disclosing the Wolf thing.”

“Not impossible,” Hunac conceded, “but dishonest. You are married, I see,” he said, pointing to her wedding band. Evangeline nodded warily. “Have you not told your husband what you are?”

“Well, sure, but it’s different. He knew before we got married. Before he even realised that he liked me, really.”

“And had he not known prior to your engagement, would you not have told him?”

Evangeline’s face turned crimson. There were a few things that Walden didn’t know about his wife. She reeked of guilt. “I…I wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t think he could handle knowing what I am. And he wouldn’t have married me if he thought I wasn’t being completely honest with him.”

“Exactly. Marriage is about trust – and communication, and compromise, but that’s beside the point. If you cannot trust your partner, you cannot have a healthy relationship. Your marriage is doomed to fall apart, eventually.”

Evangeline looked more and more queasy with every word Hunac said.

“Enough,” Mal said. “Hunac, when our business is concluded, I will consider reviewing the matter of secrecy. It seems it has already been breached, anyway.”

“What business is that? You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Well, I’ve been _trying_ ,” Mal said with some exasperation. “You once told me the legend behind the Chaca and Chechen trees.”

“The _story_ , not the legend. What about it?”

“I’d like to hear it,” Evangeline said.

Hunac raised an eyebrow. “Did you travel to Germany and wake me up just for this?”

“Um…no. You see, we need to find that tree…the first one...um, Cha-Cha. Mal thought that perhaps there was a clue in the story as to its location.”

“Central America,” Hunac said. “It’s a pretty common tree.”

“We need the _original_ one,” Evangeline clarified. “Whatever that means.”

Hunac glanced at Mal. “What are you up to, Alpha?”

“Please recount the story. I will explain afterwards.”

Hunac sighed. “There’s not much to it. It’s your typical, run-of-the-mill tale of good versus evil. Two brothers, one good, one bad, a pretty girl comes between them… They duel, both die, the gods take mercy and turn them into trees – the Chaca and the Chechen, respectively. The evil tree causes a skin rash, the other tree's sap is an antidote to the rash. Oh, and the girl was so sad that she died, too, so the gods turned her into a lily. The end.”

“Wow, Mal was right, you’re a great storyteller,” Evangeline said. "I can almost picture it."

Hunac ignored her sarcastic comment. “ _Why_ do you need to locate Kinich? That is, the original Chaca tree.”

“We are gathering ingredients to brew a very special elixir,” Mal said. “It requires bark…a minuscule amount of it. Evangeline brought a template for size.” She took it out of her handbag: it was two square inches. “We do not wish to desecrate the tree in any way. We’ll make a precise incision and-”

“Wait here,” Hunac said. He closed the door in their faces.

“Well, we don’t have much choice but to wait, what with the closed door,” Evangeline grumbled. “He’s unruly, your Mayan cub.”

He was…but not as much as some of the others. Mal was glad that they didn’t need Attila’s assistance, or Ivan’s.

Hunac was only gone for a minute. He reopened the door and handed him a cord with a wooden pendant. “There.”

Evangeline took it out of Mal’s hand before he could examine it. “Is that…”

“It is what you asked for. Will you leave now? Some of my…roommates are coming to.”

“You just happen to carry this with you?” Evangeline sounded suspicious. “I think you’re just trying to get rid of us. You don’t want us to know where the tree is, do you?”

“I do want to be rid of you, and I do not want you to find the tree,” Hunac confirmed. “But this is the real thing. I swear it, on my honour.”

Evangeline was not convinced. “Is your honour really worth anything?”

Now she was just being rude, though Hunac didn’t seem to take offence. “I trust him,” Mal said. “But Hunac…if you kept it all these years, I must assume that it is precious to you. You do understand that, when we use it to brew the elixir, it will be gone forever?”

“It’s nothing more than a keepsake. A good luck charm, of sorts.” Hunac shrugged. “There’s no point living in the past. I’m too old to feel homesick or nostalgic. I want to start looking forward to the future, instead.”

Mal nodded. “I promise I will-”

Inside the room, a man began to sing in German. Evangeline gasped. “Oh my gods,” she murmured. “Is that…is that Till? Till Lindemann?” Hunac cocked his head to the left, a very Wolfish gesture of surprise. “Are you touring with _Rammstein_?” she asked in a high-pitched voice.

“Um…yes.”

Evangeline made a sound that Mal was hard-pressed to define. “I take it that you know of them?” he enquired.

“Know of them? I _love_ them!” She cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed. Hunac was looking at her curiously, while Mal was more…baffled by her reaction. “Ted bought me their two albums for Christmas,” she explained. “Christmas started as a pity party, last year, Ted was just trying to cheer me up, but then we spent hours listening to some of the songs on repeat. Ted translated the lyrics. I know _Engel_ by heart, even though I don’t speak a word of German. I fell in love with Till’s voice. Another thing Walden doesn’t know about,” she said bitterly.

Mal didn’t know what to say to that. Evangeline had made him watch many movies, but he still had to catch up on music. The man’s singing was rather pleasant, though, he had to admit.

“Would you like to…meet him?” Hunac asked, somewhat hesitantly.

“Are you bloody _insane_?” Evangeline said. “No, no, no. Nope. I’ve seen enough naked blokes for one day.”

“He’s not-”

“Just tell him…keep up the good work. Actually, we should go.” She tapped Mal’s arm. “It’s getting late.” She didn’t wait for him. She seemed eager to reach the elevator, this time.

“She’s an oddball,” Hunac commented. Mal turned, ready to scold him. “I mean that in the best way possible,” he added.

Mal smiled. “She usually thanks people for that sort of remark. She would call it a compliment.”

“She smells amazing, too, but I’ve been told she smells different to everyone.” Mal nodded. _A love potion made flesh_ : those were Edward’s words. The cub had drunk Amortentia in the past, more than once. Potions had little effect on Wolves, but the smell and taste of that one were divine, according to Edward. Basically, he drank Amortentia for fun.

“That doesn’t excuse what happened to Greyback,” Hunac said more harshly. “I thought you wanted him alive, Alpha.”

His smile faded. “I would have preferred that, yes. But Evangeline acted in self-defence and, judging by the trail of half-mangled corpses I found on the battlefield, she also saved many lives that night. Greyback was on a killing spree, Hunac. I do not know what prompted it, but if Evangeline says that it was a necessary evil, I believe her. Actually, she was willing to give her own life to stop him.”

“Is it true that he created a new Wolf before his passing?”

“Draco Malfoy, yes. Fear not, he will be properly mentored. Unlike Greyback.”

“A formal introduction to what is left of the pack is in order…”

“All in good time,” Mal promised. “He’s very young, and he has been through a lot in the past few years. I thought he would benefit from several months in Kunlun, away from the world. It is an opportunity to reflect on his actions, to find himself – and peace, perhaps.”

“It’s lucky that Greyback bit him when he did… If he had not, our line would have ended when he died.”

Mal had a feeling that Greyback had sensed the end approaching. Perhaps he had even…sought it. Perhaps the reason he’d killed all these innocent children was to force Evangeline and her friends to take action against him, to stop him once and for all, so that he could do no more damage. Perhaps, deep down, he understood the error of his ways and felt remorse.

Or maybe he’d gone mad. They would never know.

“Hunac, I’m sorry if I disappointed you with the decisions I’ve made over the centuries. I wished you’d said something before… I never wanted for you to be as miserable as I’ve been. At least not consciously.”

“I know you mean well, Alpha. I know you try. And I understand the burden of the years… They weigh on your shoulders more than on anyone else’s. But a new millennium dawns… It’s time for a change. We must learn to trust the mortals with our secret. Not all of them…but a selected few. For our own good. We cannot go on like this. I’m surprised you remained sane throughout the ages.”

“I always knew Elle would return to me,” Mal said softly. “It was foretold, and it will happen, soon. That knowledge kept me alive and…relatively sane. But you…you had nothing for which to live, for so long.”

“I knew someone would slap some sense into you, eventually,” Hunac said with a wry smile. “I suppose I have the oddball to thank for that.”

“Yes, I suppose so. My life has really turned around, since I met her. Mostly for the best.” He did miss the tranquillity of Kunlun, but he would return there soon. He had told Elle to take all the time she needed, but she had to know he didn’t mean that… She knew him to well to fall for such a ridiculous promise. As soon as the elixir was ready and Sirius Black’s soul restored, Mal would restore his own by reattaching the missing piece: Elle’s heart.

“Thank you for the bark,” he told Hunac. “You’ve saved us some time. I will reunite all of you cubs when this is over, and there will be change. For the better. It will be a new era.”

Hunac bowed his head a fraction. “I wish you luck in your endeavour, Alpha.” He grinned suddenly. It lit up his face. “If you give me an address, I will send the girl a dedicated picture of the band.”

Mal gave him the address without thinking about it, then realised his mistake. “You’re going to have them pose nude, aren’t you?”

“Obviously.”

Mal tried to imagine Walden’s reaction…and laughed. “Thank you for everything. I must go now. We’re on a tight schedule. Take care, cub.”


	30. Fire and Ice

Thankfully, the Questing Beast’s lair was located in the same spot as it was in their world. With Ancients and a Wolf in their team, reaching it took only a few hours – Tony carried Sirius over his shoulder. It seemed that the various traps and tricks had disappeared or been disabled, probably due to the Beast’s absence. As they neared the place, though, Ted halted in his tracks only about a mile from the cavern. “Oh, no, no, no. I’m not going in there.” He wrinkled his nose. “It _reeks_.”

The Ripper scoffed. “Seriously? You won’t do it because it stinks? That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever-”

“It doesn’t stink,” Ted corrected her. “It reeks.” Tony wasn’t sure what the difference was. “I’ve never smelled anything like that. It’s not just the putrefaction or sulphur. It smells evil. I mean, most demons have a stench to them, but this is…” He scrunched up his face again and shuddered. “If I get too close, I’m going to throw up.”

“Then don’t breathe,” the Ripper snapped. “You can’t die of asphyxia, right? Let’s move on, Mister Sensitive Nose.”

Ted shot Tony a meaningful glance, rolling his eyes as if to say _Ugh, women_. Tony shrugged. He found it weird to side with the Ripper about anything, but… “She does have a point.”

Ted’s expression screamed betrayal. “I won’t die, but have you ever tried holding your breath for several minutes, when you were still human? Even if I succeed, I might still pass out.”

“Mate, after everything we’ve been through, are you really going to let a bad smell keep us from going home?”

“The Wolf can stay behind if he wants, but _I_ am going in.” The Ripper started walking again. Tony glanced at the former pirate apologetically before following her, still carrying Sirius.

Ted groaned in annoyance. “Fine. But don’t complain if I barf all over you,” he warned them.

As they peered inside the cave, Tony was glad that he didn’t have to breathe and felt sorry for berating Ted. He took one curious whiff and would have likely vomited if it were biologically possible. The smell was atrocious. How had they not caught it the first time they’d visited? He doubted that it was a specific attribute of this world. He glanced at Ted. The Wolf had gone several shades paler, and he was sweating profusely. He gestured for them to move on, but didn’t open his mouth. Was he really holding his breath?

They marched inside. It was a small space, and there was nothing that seemed to justify the stench. No decomposing carcasses, no rotten eggs. The place was in fact suspiciously clean – and empty.

There was no portal that they could see.

He didn’t think that Persephone would have lied to them on purpose, though, so after leaving Sirius to sit on a boulder, he began inspecting every nook and cranny, and the Ripper did likewise while Ted simply stood there and tried to keep the contents of his stomach…well, inside his stomach.

Suddenly the Wolf made a sound between a whimper and a growl, pointing at the ground near Tony’s feet. “Smell…coming from…there,” he said in a tight voice.

Tony studied the emplacement, but it looked exactly like the rest of the cavern’s ground. The Ripper took a few steps toward it and stomped on it.

Nothing happened.

Tony leaned forward hesitantly. “Sambethe?” he said, feeling like an idiot for talking to the ground. Again.

The ground began to dissolve where the Ripper stood, and she moved aside gracefully. A moment later, a round portal opened, blazing with an ominous crimson light. The Ripper gestured for Tony to grab hold of Sirius. As usual, she was the first through the portal. When she was gone, the cavern shook.

“THOU SHALT BETRAY THEM.”

Tony looked around, but the disembodied voice had come from nowhere – or everywhere.

“What was that?” Ted whispered.

“Hopefully not a prediction,” he replied curtly. “Go on. I’m right behind you.”

Ted disappeared after the Ripper.

“THOU SHALT BEGET NO CHILD, BUT THOU SHALT BE A FATHER.”

Tony hesitated. There would be no one to listen to what the voice would say about him, but he’d heard more than enough from the Beast already. There was Sirius, though… He pushed the man inside the portal, his curiosity once again getting the better of him. Hopefully someone would catch Sirius on the other side.

“THINE PATIENCE AND RESILIENCE SHALL BE REWARDED IN THE END.”

Well, that sounded rather positive, for once. Lucky Sirius. Tony jumped after him.

* * *

Tony had expected (hoped, really) to appear in Death’s reception chamber, which would have been the easiest way to find their other-worldly doppelgänger, but no such luck. He landed on a narrow strip of rock in the middle of a fiery lake. It seemed that they were inside a volcano. Or possibly in Hell.

“Uh,” he remarked as he scanned their surroundings. Not his most verbose moment, but he couldn’t think of anything witty to say.

“Uh indeed,” the Ripper agreed. “So the Lake of Fire is not a myth. Do bad folk really end up here and fry?”

“Unfortunately, no,” a strong voice grated behind them. “No one ever provides snacks anymore.”

Tony closed his eyes briefly before turning to assess the demon. For once, it wasn’t a good-looking, humanoid one. Tony would have much preferred that. Or even an Evey-shaped succubus. Or Loki.

The creature was enormous, and seemed to be made of writhing shadows and flames. It looked like a Balrog from Middle-earth legends. Tony frowned. Those _were_ legends, right? Tolkien had made them up. Surely.

He cleared his throat. “Um…hullo. I’m Tony. We’re looking for…” What, exactly? People who looked like them. A safe way out of the lava lake. Sirius wouldn’t survive a swim – he wasn’t even certain that the rest of them would. “The nearest portal.” he said eventually. “Please,” he added. It never hurt to be polite, even to Balrogs. Or _especially_ to Balrogs.

The creature made a sound that might have been a laugh. “I think I’ll just eat you. No one ever provides snacks anymore,” it repeated. Merlin, it must be really hungry.

Tony gulped down some saliva, in an attempt to smooth the lump in his throat. He glanced at the Ripper, but she gestured indifferently. Tony interpreted it to mean _Talking is your area of expertise, but I’ll deal with the bloody thing if you mess up._ “Um…I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.” He tried to sound confident, but his voice sounded weak to his own ears. “We’re children of Lilith and Fenrir. Surely you don’t want to anger them.” Hadn’t it gotten the memo that said _You can annoy and harass them as much as you want, but not harm them_? Or had Loki changed his mind since their last visit?

“The Master said I could threaten to eat you,” the Balrog said after a moment of tense silence.

Threaten to? “Well, you have done that brilliantly. I feel very threatened.” He did, and certainly looked it, too. “Now can you show us to the nearest portal?”

Again, silence stretched between them. Sirius’s face was a bright red, likely due to the heat. They had to get him out of here before he melted.

The demon huffed and released a fiery breath that nearly singed the Ripper. She glared at it, but thankfully didn’t try to stab it. “At least leave the mortal,” the Balrog pleaded. “You have no use for him, and I’m _starving_. It’s been centuries since I last fed. Honestly, I make _one_ mistake, and suddenly I’m relegated to guarding this cursed volcano. It’s not my fault that the so-called wizard was in fact a…” It cut off abruptly, glowering at them, as though it’d caught them reading its journal without permission.

“We, um, do need the mortal in one piece. He’s damaged enough as it is. You should complain to the trade union, you know, if you’re not satisfied with…the Master. Demand more snacks.”

“Trade…union?” the demon repeated. It leaned forward, giving off a wave of heat so intense that Tony feared for Sirius’s life. He hoped that his organs weren’t liquefying.

“You don’t have that?” Tony enquired innocently. “A delegation of demons that collects the complaints of Pandemonium’s brave and hard-working employees and fights for their rights, defending them to the Master himself?” The Balrog regarded him with flaming eyes, obviously captivated. “You should, you know. I’m sure you would easily find more peop…um, demons to join your cause. Your voices must be heard. Enough of this injustice and inequality! You deserve snacks just as much as the next demon.”

The Ripper shot him a warning glance. “Careful, fledgling.”

Oh, right. They were potential snacks. “But of course,” he went on hastily, “you must take the matter to the Master before actually devouring anyone. Otherwise he’ll be furious, and you don’t want that. You have to do things by the book.”

“What book?”

“No, I mean…you can’t just do whatever you want. Discuss it with your peers. Go on a strike, perhaps.”

“Mm. I like this idea.” It narrowed its eyes, and they weren’t on fire anymore. They were pulsing orbs of darkness. Tony didn’t know if that was a good thing or a lethal one. “I will consider this. Apophis is always underfed, too. I’ll start with him. Thank you, little human leech. You have been of great service. For that, I will do you a favour.” It paused. “I assume you’ll want safe passage to the portal.”

“For all four of us, yes, please.”

The demon nodded solemnly. “So be it.”

A rocky path appeared in the lava, its height progressively increasing as it led toward the edge of the volcano. Tony wondered if this was the volcano they’d glimpsed in Fenrir’s realm, but there was no time to waste. Sirius was burning up. He shouted a hasty “Thanks!” at the Balrog, and then they were all on the move.

* * *

By the time they reached the edge of the volcano, Sirius’s skin was an unhealthy crimson colour, but he was alive.

“What did it say about me?” Ted asked Tony.

“Mm?” He was busy trying to lower Sirius’s body temperature with magic.

“You know, the voice inside the cavern.”

The Ripper scowled. “What the hell are you on about?”

“It didn’t say anything. What we heard after Jack left must have been the echo of a past prophecy.”

Why was he lying? He had no idea. He did know that repeating the words he’d heard would cause a debate and delay them, though, and he was anxious to leave Pandemonium, while Sirius was still alive.

“Aye, must have been,” Ted murmured.

“Was that a Balrog?” Tony asked, more to change the topic of conversation than anything else.

The Ripper shrugged. “It didn’t introduce itself properly, but it did look like one.”

Ted chuckled. “The Elves won’t believe their pointy ears when I tell them I met one in the flesh. Figuratively speaking.”

“You intend to return to Middle-earth?” the Ripper demanded.

Ted seemed taken aback, both by the question and by her sharp tone. “I was...considering it. It’d certainly be a pleasant change of scenery after…this.” He gestured broadly at the macabre landscape.

“Permanently?” she insisted.

“Nah, I never stay in one place for more than a few years,” Ted said. “It’d be more like…a vacation.”

The Ripper didn’t comment on that, so Tony spoke into the silence. “Portal, anyone?”

Ted shook out of his confusion. “Right. Portal.” He looked and sniffed around, then stared downward. The landscape was indeed very familiar – this looked like Fenrir’s realm. Did the Balrog and the Wolf Demon share a territory, or was the Balrog merely a subordinate? “There’s an opening there, on that ledge. And a path leading to it…there,” he pointed.

“Let’s go, then,” the Ripper muttered. “I know I’m immune to the heat, but I’ll take a realm of ice over this sweltering mess any day.”

* * *

She only had to ask.

The portal took them to a replication of Antarctica; they were surrounded by glittering ice and snow. Bitter winds roared at them. The sky itself was nearly white. They couldn’t freeze to death, but their hair and clothes stiffened with the cold.

Uh, come to think of it…Sirius could probably freeze to death. Tony cast a protective Warmth spell around him.

“We’ve come to the land of the ice and snow,” Ted said with a grin.

Tony stared at him. Count on him to quote Led Zeppelin lyrics at the most random time. “Let’s not delay, shall we?” He was _not_ going to hike around this glacial wasteland while half-supporting Sirius. “Who’s in charge here?” he called out loudly to make himself heard over the wind. “Show yourself!”

“Aw, c’mon, man!” a lazy voice sounded, apparently from nowhere. The intensity of the wind diminished so it didn’t have to yell. “Do something funny first! Slip over a patch of ice. Build a snowman in the form of your soulmate, and I’ll animate it for you, if you want to kiss it.” Tony could hear the malicious smirk in the voice without even seeing its owner. “Yeah, word gets around pretty fast in the Homeland,” it chuckled. “I just had Eisheth over for demonic tea.”

Eisheth? Could that be the succubus’s name?

“Demonic tea?” Ted repeated.

 _Yeah, that’s the vital information to focus on_ , Tony thought derisively. _Way to go, Ted._

“That’s what we like to call our favourite beverage, the tears of mothers whose children were stillborn.”

“That’s…distasteful and horrible,” Ted stated.

“I’m just messing with you, dude!” the voice sniggered. “It’s really just tea, but made from Homeland herbs. It’s demonic bergamot.”

“That’s all very fascinating,” Tony said, “but can you direct us to the nearest portal? We’re looking for three people, two of whom look exactly like him and me.” He pointed at Ted. That was when he realised that they hadn’t asked who the third member of the team was. All they had was a name: Amy. That wasn’t much to go by. “And, um, a woman who looks nothing like this one.” He cocked his head to indicate the Ripper. “Do you know where they are?”

“Well, aren’t you a party pooper,” the voice muttered. Suddenly, a short, skinny lad materialised in front of them. His skin was blue, his spiky hair snow white. He was wearing a white t-shirt bearing the inscription _Special Snowflake_ and jeans. “There’s no portal here, bud. My realm is a dead end. As for your friends…yeah, I have no idea where they are.” His icy, purple eyes twinkled as he spoke.

“You’re lying,” the Ripper chided.

The lad shrugged. “What did you expect? I’m a demon. That’s what we do.”

“Who are you, then?” Tony asked. “Are you a greater demon? Can you teleport us anywhere we want?”

“Bah! I hate that expression, greater demon. Like, I’m just puny Jack Frost, I don’t deserve a fancy title, but you’re Fenrir and Lilith kin, so you get free passage across the Homeland, and even get to meet the Master in the flesh? You think you’re better than me, uh?” His eyes turned white as he ranted on, and it began to snow.

“Clearly not,” Tony answered his own question. “There has to be a way out of here, though.” He hoped there was. This was definitely not the ideal realm in which to be stuck. “Look, at least direct us to whoever is in charge-”

There was a sound like a bell chiming.

Tony tensed and glanced around him. “Um…what’s that?”

“Damned wizards,” the demon – Jack Frost? …really? – grumbled. “I’ll be right back, folks.” He vanished in a shower of scintillating snowflakes.

And returned five seconds later. “Ugh! Think you’re so clever, with your stupid magic and silly binding spells. It never crosses your narrow minds that you’re being rude, summoning us whenever you feel like it, not even wondering if we’re busy. And then you’re like ‘I want this, I want that. Make me rich, make me beautiful, make me powerful. Kill my enemies, make people fall in love with me.’ Not even a ‘Hey, Jack, how’re you doing, man?’” He huffed an icy breath. “You gnats! I’m not a bloody genie, for fuck’s sake. And then you’ll wonder why you end up frostbitten and gutted in your dumb pentagrams. As if anyone could bind _me_ , Lord of the Ice, grand master of this realm.” Around them, the ice shook and cracked in several places. Dark clouds blackened the clear sky. “Alright, alright! _Keeper_ of this realm. Whatever. Same difference.” Jack Frost pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders hunched, like a child who’d just been told off by his mother. Tony assumed that Loki was the mother, in this scenario.

“But…if you cannot be bound, why answer the summons at all? Or, for that matter, why not leave the pentagram and wreak wintry havoc on earth?” He dearly hoped that the answer was _Because I can’t_.

“Because I _have_ to show up, you bozo, thanks to your fucking magic. And we’re not allowed to go on chaotic, murderous sprees in the human realms anymore. The gods won’t let us.” He smirked. “Apparently, you don’t need our help to ruin your world and mass-murder each other.”

Touché.

“But we have to kill those who dare summon us.”

“Have to?”

“Uh-huh. That’s the rule, though there have been a few exceptions, I suppose.” His smile curdled. “Like Fenrir and Lilith’s infamous rule-breaking moment.” The unpleasant smirk returned with barely a pause. “At least they were punished for it. Eternal separation. They can never see each other again. Serves them right, if you ask me.”

Tony didn’t care one way or another. “Mr Frost… If you can’t teleport us away from here, can you at least point us to the nearest portal? Please?”

The demon grinned with malice. “You wanna get out of here? That’s easy. You just have to jump through the ice.”

Tony looked around. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Doesn’t matter. You’ll fall right into the next realm as soon as you pass through.” He raised his hands, seeing their suspicious expressions. “I swear. It’s the only way.”

The three looked at each other. Ted shrugged, then _jumped_. Really jumped, like only a Wolf could. He soared ten feet into the air and fell heavily, the ice cracking and parting under his weight, aided by gravity – which was a thing even in Pandemonium, thankfully – and he went under. The Ripper glanced inside the hole. “He’s gone. No trace of him.” Without another word, she jumped after him.

Tony groaned. “Here we go again.” He pushed Sirius gently, then went after him.

He heard the demon laugh manically before he zapped through the portal.


	31. Fire and Blood

Mal and Estelle were taking a stroll in the woods of Macnair manor. Evangeline had pleaded for an hour of privacy so that she could explain to Walden why they were gone when he woke up that night. That was just after she’d accused Estelle of getting lost on the way back on purpose, which the older witch had not denied.

“Their relationship is so weird,” Estelle said.

Mal couldn’t agree more, but he was hardly an expert on relationships. “It is what it is.”

“One moment they’re being overly affectionate, the next they’re mad at each other, and it’s usually impossible to figure out why. I used to think it was because of you, but now I’m not so sure. Are you in love with her?”

Count on her to sneak in such a blunt question. He did not dignify it with an answer. "I belong with someone else.”

“Yeah, the mystery woman who lives far, far away. Do you really believe in that crap, though?”

“What…crap would that be?”

“That you can ‘belong’ with someone. Like a soulmate or whatever nonsense.”

Mal gave her a keen look. “You’ve never been in love, have you?” Estelle snorted loudly. “I thought not.”

“Love is overrated,” the witch said. “It is the source of all troubles in the world.”

“Well, not _all_ troubles, but a large amount, certainly. Religions, greed, intolerance and politics have done their fair share of damage.”

“Do you think she’s in love with him?”

Now that was an odd question. “They’re married,” he noted, pointing out the obvious. He wasn’t sure what else to say.

“There are more loveless marriages than you’d think,” Estelle countered. “Maybe she married him for his money.”

“That doesn’t sound like something Evangeline would do.”

“You know that calling her Evey is much faster, right? It’s a stupid name either way, but at least it doesn’t take a week to say it.”

Mal hesitated. For some reason, Walden had always had a problem with Mal using her full name; now that he was occasionally using the diminutive form, however, it seemed to make Walden angrier than ever. Mal was beginning to think that whatever he chose to call her wasn’t the root of the problem. Walden simply didn’t like Mal, and he didn’t want him anywhere near his wife.

Well, he wouldn’t have to suffer Mal’s presence much longer. There were only a few ingredients left on the list, and Mal had already decided to leave the moment the elixir was done. He didn’t think he would even stick around to find out if it was efficient, or to see if Edward would return safely from Pandemonium. If Evangeline and Walden’s marriage was doomed to fall apart, he didn’t want to be blamed for it.

“We should head back,” he suggested. “We have been walking for nearly half an hour.”

“Ugh, please, yes. My shoes are already ruined, but at least I won’t have to listen to those bloody birds anymore. It’s the most annoying sound in the world.”

Mal didn’t mind that in the least, but he was anxious to be done with today’s task: to summon a demon. He was reluctant to participate, but at the same time didn’t want to leave Evangeline’s side when she was about to do something so dangerous.

They followed the path back to the house. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Walden put down his empty teacup on the desk. "Alright, what do you want us to do?" he asked Estelle. He assumed that she would be taking charge; she was not the only person in the room who had ever summoned a demon, but she was the only one who had ever done it successfully. And on purpose.

“The maiden’s blood is in that bottle,” she said. “We have to trace a pentagram with it, then-”

“Wow, wait, what?” Evey interrupted her. “Maiden’s blood? I thought you were going to purchase _goat_ blood for the ritual!”

“The English of me is not as well as think you. I making mistakes and using bad words.”

Walden stifled a laugh, but Evey noticed. She glowered at him. “You think it’s funny? That’s a person’s blood, Wal!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, girl,” Estelle said. “There’s only two pints. I’m sure that the donor is fine.”

“Or the other eight pints were sold to someone else and the donor is very much dead,” Evey protested.

“Then her family must be quite rich now. This stuff is expensive. Also, it is necessary to the ritual,” Estelle added when she saw that Evey was going to verbally assault her again. “The Cherufe demon is used to human sacrifices, preferably young virgins. If we employ something else, it might refuse to show up.”

“Anyway, the deed is done,” Mal said quietly. “Better not to waste it, to honour the donor’s sacrifice.”

Evey’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

Of course. If Mal said it was alright, then it was alright.

“Wal?” Evey repeated.

He blinked, then realised that everyone was looking at him. “Um, pardon?”

“Estelle was wondering if you spoke…” She glanced at Mal for help.

“Mapudungun,” he whispered.

“Yes, some obscure language no one’s ever heard of, from South America. Do you know it? Because Mal doesn’t, and apparently it’s the best one in which to chant for this summoning ritual.”

“I know of it, but I don’t speak it.”

Estelle gestured vaguely, as if to say that it was unimportant. “Don’t worry about it. What matters is that we use an ancient language – the older the language, the more potent the magic, as everyone knows.”

Evey raised an eyebrow. “Is that why most of our spells are in Latin? Because they’re more powerful than if we used English?”

Estelle rolled her eyes. “ _Sérieusement, on vous apprend quoi à l’école ici_?”

Once again, Evey turned to Mal for help, even though Walden was standing right beside her. “Seriously, what do they teach you in school here?” the Wolf translated.

“Come on, everyone knows that Beauxbâtons is the worst of the three main wizarding schools of Europe,” Evey said. “And possibly the worst in the world.”

“I went to Ilvermorny,” Estelle said with a smirk. “Then I studied for two extra years in Castelobruxo, and another one in Uagadou.”

“Anyway,” Walden said, before the bickering intensified. “What language should we use, then? Is Sanskrit ancient enough?”

“Sanskrit would be perfect,” Estelle replied. She looked somewhat impressed. “But it’s a two-people chant.”

All eyes turned to Mal. He shrugged awkwardly, as if he was feeling self-conscious. “I speak Sanskrit, but I may be a little rusty.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Estelle said. She handed him a piece of parchment. “Here’s the chant in French; I’ll leave it to you boys to translate it while Evey and I prepare the rest of the ritual.”

Great. He was going to have to work with Mal.

There were only four sentences, which they would have to repeat in unison until the demon appeared. Walden didn’t bother to ask Malkoran’s advice on the translation. Unlike the Wolf, he wasn’t “rusty”.

“You’re really good at this,” Mal murmured.

Walden looked up from the parchment, wondering if he was being sarcastic, though the Wolf rarely was. The admiration in his expression seemed genuine. “I’ve dedicated a great part of my life to learning languages. It comes naturally to me.”

“Well, I used to think I was pretty good at it, too, but you’re on a different level entirely. I can easily make myself understood, but my spelling is disastrous, my grammar basic. In every language I know, not only Sanskrit.”

“Your English is flawless,” Walden noted, somewhat grudgingly.

Mal chuckled. “You should have heard me when I returned to England a year ago. At first, I thought you had invented a whole new language while I was away. It took me some time to adjust to modern English, with its many contractions, unusual words and occasional vulgarity.”

“We sure have a knack for coming up with fancy expletives.”

“And for using them profusely,” Mal concurred.

“Evey’s especially good at that.”

“Estelle, too. Sometimes I wish my French were as lacking as my Sanskrit.”

Walden snorted. “Good thing you never knew Jeanne. Estelle is refined, in comparison.”

“Oh, I have encountered her. I asked her to kill me once or twice.”

Well, that wasn’t something you expected to come up in everyday conversation. Walden didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t the first time that Mal had hinted at his past suicidal tendencies, but it was always awkward when he brought them up, especially in such a casual manner.

“A few of my Wolves went through this phase as well,” the Alpha went on. “We can be quite creative, when seeking the means of our own destruction. Hernán picked up a few fights against the Ancients in the hope that they would kill him in self-defence. Miyamoto has used his blades in every way imaginable. Even Edward has had his moments… Immortality can be a burden, but I have finally come to accept it,” Mal said quietly. “I’m afraid I will not be dying anytime soon.”

“Hey, I don’t want you to die, mate.” It was true. He wanted him gone, but not dead. Evey would be devastated if Mal died. “Look, I’m not really mad at you, okay? You’ve been honest with me, and Evey is amazing, so of course you’d want to court her if you thought she was available. I just wish Evey wouldn’t be so secretive. I wish she would trust me with….well, everything. If she considered being with you when she thought I was dead… That’s fine. It’s natural. I don’t expect her to be alone forever after I’m gone. I dearly hope that she won’t be alone, in fact. And I know I tend to behave in an erratic, perhaps even aggressive manner, when there are other men around, but I’m working on that. I really am.”

Why was he telling Mal all this? He must sound like a complete fool.

“I appreciate this. I do not mean to come between Evangeline and yourself, you must know that. I want Elle back. That is all I have ever wanted. As soon as my help is no longer required, I will leave.”

“I should hope so,” Walden said, half-jokingly. “I mean, you’re welcome to visit, of course, but the plan was never for you to _live_ here.” He hesitated. “You do have a place to live, right?”

“Several places.”

Walden was about to say something else, but suddenly became aware that he was being observed. He turned to find Evey and Estelle looking at him – at them. “What?” he said, a bit more harshly than he intended. He had a bad feeling about this. How much had they heard? How was his polite and earnest conversation with Mal going to backfire?

“I drugged you,” Evey said, biting her lip. “Sorry.” She added that almost as an afterthought.

Walden blinked. “You…what?”

“Yeah, that tea? I dosed our cups with Veritaserum. And I put some in Mal’s coffee, too.”

Estelle laughed and squeezed Evey’s shoulder. “I love it! Very underhanded. Didn’t think you had it in you, kiddo.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Walden demanded. He couldn’t believe this.

“Why on earth would you drug _yourself_?” Mal added.

“I didn’t like the way we left things earlier,” she told Walden, “I’ll tell you everything that happened while you were asleep, if you want. No lie, no secret, no omission.”

Walden’s heart would have beaten faster, were he alive. “Why? What happened?”

“I saw Mal naked. Also that bloke in Germany. He was naked when he opened the door, for some reason.”

Walden glared at Malkoran. “What the hell?!”

“No, wait, let me explain before you go berserk,” Evey said. “Darya came by yesterday, right? But she didn’t know the animal she was supposed to turn into, so Mal demonstrated for her. Then he returned to human form…naked. As one does. It didn’t occur to me that he would, so I was looking right at him when it happened. I had other things on my mind and I was worried, okay? You know how I feel about Darya, plus I was alone with her for half an hour… I didn’t look on purpose. It was an accident, and it was extremely embarrassing.”

“More so for you than for me,” Mal said.

“Yeah, this guy has zero shame,” Evey agreed. “But I don’t make a habit of seeing my friends naked. It won’t happen again. I hope. You’re the only man I want to see naked, Wal.”

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Estelle said with a smirk. “Quite the compliment, really, because I was there and, let me tell you, it was something to behold.”

“No one asked for your opinion,” Evey muttered, her cheeks reddening.

Walden had no idea how to react to this. It was too much to take in.

“But why did you drug _me_?” Mal insisted. “This is between you two.”

“I was hoping that Walden and you would get a chance to speak alone, and Estelle provided. A chance to be real with each other. I wasn’t sure how long the serum would work on you, though, or if it would work at all.”

“I don’t need magic to be truthful," Mal complained. "I have always been honest with you, with _both_ of you, together or separately.”

Walden couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know if the Veritaserum had any effect on the Wolf, but he had to ask. “Yeah? So have you truly been chaste for…as long as you claim?” Estelle eyed the Alpha with keen interest.

Mal didn’t reply, but he certainly didn’t look happy.

“I fucking knew it,” Walden whispered. He glanced at Evey to gauge her reaction, but she seemed unfazed. Had she known all along? Or perhaps she didn’t care. Why should she? Why should Walden, for that matter? Why was he so obsessed about catching Mal in a lie, a lie that had no impact whatsoever on their lives?

What was _wrong_ with him?

“This wasn’t meant to turn into an interrogation,” Evey said. “I just needed a little nudge to get the naked business off my chest. Enough with the personal questions… The serum will wear off soon, anyway. We should get to work.”

* * *

Of course it had been a terrible idea.

Evey had known that from the moment her eyes had strayed toward the vial of Veritaserum that they kept in the kitchen since the Morgana incident. It was the sort of things Estelle would do. Or Jeanne. It was _wrong_. It would have been fine to drink a drop of serum to give herself some placebo courage to admit to everything that had happened the previous day, but to drug her husband and her friend? She couldn’t force people to be honest or to confront their own feelings.

But she was desperate for Walden and Mal to get along. And her plan had…sort of worked? They’d had an open discussion that had not turned into an argument or a fight. They’d remained civil to each other while they translated the chant. It seemed that the matter of Mal being interested in Evey (once upon a time) was resolved. Walden really had no reason to be jealous. If he insisted on being jealous now, it was entirely his fault. Evey had done everything she could.

Mal was angry, though, she could tell. She wasn’t certain if it was because she’d drugged him or because of Wal’s question – or both – but it was her fault, that much she knew. She’d never really believed in his abstinence speech and, to be perfectly frank, she was relieved that it wasn’t true. No human with a healthy libido would have survived thousands of years without sex. That was insane.

Was he perhaps angry because he was afraid that they would tell the Bloodmother? That was equally silly. For one thing, Evey was terrified of the Ancient and, for another, it wouldn’t serve everyone’s best interest, which was to reunite Malkoran with his soulmate. It was something that would make everybody happy.

The worst part about this revelation was that it made her curious. Did Mal have one-night-stands with random strangers? Or did he prefer somewhat serious relationships, like Ted, which he then had to break off for…immortality reasons?

“We’re ready,” Estelle announced. “Pentagram traced, black flame candle lit, as well as the hundred other candles, the clove incense is stinking up the place, now all we need to do is recite the chant. Whenever you’re ready, boys.”

Mal and Walden didn’t look at each other. They glared at their piece of parchment and began to chant, without much gusto.

“Louder,” Estelle commanded. “Louder and clearer. And try to speak in unison.”

Mal sighed, but the two of them complied. They found their rhythm. Evey wondered what the words meant. _Come hither, monster, we’ve got virgin blood?_ The blood had been used to trace the pentagram, though. The demon wouldn’t be able to consume it.

Unless it licked the floor.

Mal and Walden went through the same four sentences about thirty times before something happened: the black flame candle produced a giant flame, the ground trembled lightly, then came a smell of sulphur and rotten eggs. Needless to say, it didn’t combine well with the cloying scent of cloves that already permeated the room.

Finally, the demon appeared, raising the temperature of the library by several degrees.

“Did we summon a bloody _Balrog_?” Evey exclaimed, before anyone could speak. The creature was huge and seemed to be made of lava, rocks and shadows.

 _Thank Merlin for high ceilings._ Initially, they’d planned to do this outside, but it had been raining for hours. It would have been impractical, so they had opted for the library instead.

“That would be my cousin,” the demon replied in a metallic voice. “If you want to summon her, you must bait her with the blood of an Elf. Or better yet, that of a Wizard.”

_Her? Balrogs were female?_

_Also…Balrogs were real?_

“You’re the one we intended to summon,” Estelle said. “We need some of your saliva.”

“Gross,” the demon commented.

“Tell me about it,” Estelle said. She presented it with a special container – the Summoner’s Spittoon, Evey called it. “So…how do you want to do this, Cherufe? The easy way…or the hard way?”

“Oh, you can have any amount of demonic drool you want, little magicians. But let’s make it quick, shall we? I’m late for the union meeting.”

Estelle arched an eyebrow. “…right. Just spit, then, and we’ll banish you. Wouldn’t want you to be late to your…union meeting.”

The demon nodded. “Our very first one. Thank you for your understanding. I’ve rarely met such polite humans. My cousin was just telling me about the courteous ones she met in the Homeland…”

“Two men and a woman?” Evey asked excitedly.

The demon regarded her with fiery eyes, its massive head slightly cocked. “What’s the difference between the two?”

“Um…two immortal vampires and an immortal werewolf?” she reformulated.

“She did encounter two of Lilith’s children,” the demon said, “and a son of Fenrir, but they were not alone. They had a live snack with them.”

Malkoran tensed when he heard the dreaded name, as he always did.

“A…snack?” Walden repeated.

It was Estelle who clarified. “A human. A live human.”

Evey gasped. “Sirius was with them? They found him, and he’s alive? Oh my gods! They did it!” She automatically turned to Walden and hugged him tightly. Her joy was short-lived, however. She let go of her husband and looked up at the demon. “But if they have him, why haven’t they returned yet?”

“Perhaps they decided to stay where they belong,” the demon said. “To eat the snack instead of trying to revive it. That’s what _I_ would do.”

“They’re not demons, though,” Evey pointed out. “I mean, they have a little bit of demonic essence, sure, but-”

“There are rumours that The Ripper will be joining our ranks. The Master deemed her worthy.”

The Ripper was going to become a demon? No, it had to be a misunderstanding. She was a psychopath, but surely she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t abandon Tony and Ted in Pandemonium, now that they had Sirius.

“Who’s the Master?” Walden enquired.

“Hush!” Estelle snarled. “His name must not be uttered aloud, _especially_ during a summoning. It’s bad enough that the Cherufe called the other two by their names…”

“May we hurry this along?” the demon demanded.

“Sure,” Estelle said. “Spit.” It did; the result looked more like liquid fire than saliva. Estelle trapped the volatile ingredient in the spittoon and enchanted it to keep at an extreme temperature until they needed it.

“There. You're welcome. Now, if you would be so kind as to banish me from this horrifying plane of existence you call home…”

Estelle gestured for Mal and Walden to do the honours. They had to chant the same four sentences as before…but backwards. It wasn’t easy, but they managed. The demon was swallowed by a vortex within the pentagram.

“Well…that was a lot easier than I thought it would be,” Evey commented. They’d had several contingency plans in place, just in case, but none of them had been necessary. “Piece of cake, really.”

“We were lucky,” Malkoran muttered, his jaws clenched. “If that’s all for today, I’ll take my leave.” He went out the back door and Evey saw him head toward Tony’s workshop, in the garage. His hands were balled into fists at his sides. She'd never seen him like this.

Walden cleared his throat. “Should I…talk to him?” he said hesitantly. “Apologise?”

Evey wanted to kiss him just for suggesting it, but she didn’t think it was good idea. “I’ll talk to him. You should go to bed, it’s almost dawn. I’ll join you in a moment.” She stood on tiptoe and quickly pressed her lips against his. "Wait for me," she murmured. "I'll make up for drugging you and lying to you and everything else." That would be a lot of apologising to cram in before dawn, but she felt confident.

“So I’m supposed to clean up this mess all by myself, am I?” Estelle said dryly.

“I’ll help you when I’m done with Mal,” Evey lied. Yeah, the Veritaserum had worn off, alright.

With any luck, Estelle would be done cleaning up before she returned.

* * *

Estelle was certain that the girl was taking her sweet time with Malkoran just so she wouldn’t have to clean up, so she also took her time to tidy up. She started with the incense and the candles, then moved toward the pile of books and parchments on the desk. She smoothed the Sanskrit translation of the ritualistic chant and carefully placed it inside _Summoning for Dummies_ , because it could be useful in the future.

Once she became immortal and didn’t have to dedicate most of her waking hours tracking down maiden blood and working her ass off to pay for it, she would have plenty of time to master Pernelle’s summoning techniques. It would open a whole new world of possibilities; she would not only be immortal and eternally youthful, she would be all-powerful.

She smiled to herself, but something in the book that was opened on the desk – her adoptive mother’s personal notes on banishing demons – caught her attention.

Her eyes widened in horror and she rushed to the back door, every single curse in her French vocabulary streaming out of her mouth as she discarded her high heels to run faster and avoid spraining an ankle. 

She didn’t care much for these people, but the key to her bright future, to her very fate, was in their hands. Without the Valkyrie feather, all of her glorious plans fell through. She couldn’t let them die just yet.

_Please, let me be in time._


	32. Sie kommen hier nicht mehr raus

Tony landed in a puff of warm, white sand.

_Ugh, not again._ He still had sand in his shoes from their last visit. Although, come to think of it, maybe it was _another_ -

“Hello again, flesh bags.”

Nope. Same sandy realm. Same irksome demon/god/immortal being. Pandemonium was a bloody maze. A map would be nice. Or a visitor centre.

Tony stood up gingerly, dusting himself off as best he could, then retrieved Sirius, who’d landed just beside him but hadn’t moved. Tony hoped that he had suffered no broken bone in the fall, but Sirius got up to his feet without problem, if somewhat unsteadily.

“I see you found your snack…er, friend,” Set noted. His eyes glinted with amusement, and he licked his lips in a suggestive manner. “Are you quite sure that you need him? All of him? I could nibble a bit of his leg, or-”

“I’ve had enough of this!” the Ripper interrupted him. “You are going to return us – all four of us, in one piece – to the human world – _our_ human world, in _our_ timeline – right the fuck now!”

Tony frowned at her. “Um, no, he’s not. We have a mission, remember?”

Her glower could have burnt a hole through concrete, but Tony was used to it by now. “The _mission_ was to rescue the bloody snack,” she growled, pointing at Sirius. She had adopted the local lingo in no time. “I don’t give a damn about-”

“ _I_ do,” he said sharply. “Feel free to leave if you want. Take Sirius and bring him back to Evey and Walden. But I’m not going anywhere until I’ve found the…other me and returned him where he belongs.” Baby Walden needed a father. Their world needed a saviour and, according to Persephone, Angie’s husband was the only one they had. “I promised her.” He couldn’t bear the thought of Angie, all alone in a world where evil had taken over. All alone with a baby, what was more.

“Do you realise how quickly we could have gone back home, if not for your unrequited, unreciprocated love for the blasted girl?” the Ripper snapped. “She’s the reason behind most of our problems here. She’s the one holding you back now. She’ll be the death of you, fledgling.”

“Then leave me to handle this by myself. Go,” he insisted. “I can do this. I don’t need you.”

Ted snorted. “We’d be dead a hundred times if not for Miss Ripper, mate. Maybe worse than dead.” Tony was about to chew him off, too, but the Wolf spoke over him. “Hey, I’m on your side. We said we’d find them, and we will. I’m just trying to be realistic about our chances of survival without…Jack.”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Set said into the bare second of silence. “Just pretend like I’m not here and carry on with your friendly bickering. I’m only a god, after all. Not worthy of human attention.”

Merlin, what a drama queen. Tony rounded on him. “If you bloody demons didn’t keep sending us to random realms where we have no business being-”

“You have no business being in Pandemonium at all,” Set said. “Unless you intend to become proper demons yourselves. You should, but of course that’s up to you…”

Tony was about to retort, but the Ripper beat him to it. “Wait, is that actually possible? What Loki offered me, is that truly an option? Can I become a demon?”

_Thou shalt betray them._ Was that what the prophecy meant? That she would abandon them in Pandemonium to become a demon?

“A greater demon, yes. That’s how they’re made. They were all humans, once, and not necessarily immortal ones, either.” He blinked at the look on their faces. “I’m talking about demons here, of course. Us gods…well, we’re _gods_. It’s different. We have nothing human,” he clarified.

“Why are you asking, lass?” Ted demanded. “You can’t seriously be considering-“

“If we get stuck here because of the fledgling, at least I’ll have a backup plan,” the Ripper said through gritted teeth. She turned to Set. “Now that I know that Loki’s job offer wasn’t hot air, I suppose we can carry on with our stupid quest. Take us to the other-worldly versions of these two idiots. Right now. Remember that I could become your boss any moment, if I chose to.”

“I answer to no one!” Set snarled.

“Except Loki,” Ted reminded him.

“I do _not_ -”

The world shook, and Set exhaled sharply. “Ugh. This is a temporary situation,” he muttered. Sand flew around, creating a mini tornado. Set batted at it with his hands. “Alright, enough! But make up your mind already, you half-dissolved worm!” he shouted at the sky. “I keep getting contradictory orders. Are we helping them now, or are we still toying with them?” His ears twitched, as though he’d received an answer that the rest of them couldn’t hear. He sighed heavily. “One day, you’ll get lost in your own schemes, my twisted friend.” He finally returned his attention to his guests. “It seems that you had the right idea,” he told Tony. He frowned in confusion, and felt a chill when Set grinned, showing off a row of sharp teeth that gleamed in the desert sun. “You mentioned a maze. We happen to have a magnificent one.”

* * *

And again with the dusting off, and the coughing and sneezing.

“A maze?” Ted asked. “You said something about a maze? When?”

Tony shook his head. “I was just thinking that Pandemonium was a maze. Set can read minds. He is a god, or he used to be one. Still unclear on that.”

“Can we have this metaphysical debate later?” the Ripper said with much annoyance. “We have a gigantic maze to search, thanks to you.”

Tony scowled. “I don’t see a-”

“Behind you, mate,” Ted said.

Behind Tony was a hedge wall. It had to stand taller than the Ben Nevis, because he couldn’t see the top. “Uh.”

“Your damsels in distress had better be in there,” the Ripper said glumly. “If they’re not, and we end up wandering aimlessly in that…thing…” she trailed off, perhaps too angry to even think of a proper threat.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. “I’m a wizard, remember? I know magic hasn’t been much use so far, but it can guide us through the maze, at least.”

“Can it guide us to the doppelgängers’ location?” Ted asked hopefully.

“Um…no, I don’t see how.”

“Then we have to search the entire bloody maze to find them and you’re still useless,” the Ripper concluded. She started walking toward the entrance. “First time in my life that I wish I had inherited the flying ability,” she muttered.

Tony and Ted followed. “Can’t wizards fly?” the Wolf asked in a low voice.

“Rumour has it that Voldemort and Dumbledore could fly without a broom or enchanted object. Grindelwald, too. Never witnessed it myself, though. There are legends, of course, but-”

“The short answer is ‘no’,” the Ripper said without turning around.

They were now inside the maze, and they all stopped for a moment. It was really dark, but they all had perfect night vision, so Tony didn’t need to light up his wand, the one useful thing he might have done.

They considered their options: one path to the left, one to the right, another ahead of them. “Should we split up?” Ted suggested.

The Ripper snorted. “And risk getting even more lost, and never find each other again?” She grinned unpleasantly. “That last part sounds good to me.”

“I think we should stick together,” Tony said, ignoring her. He addressed Ted. “Can’t you… I don’t know…track down the others by scent? The other Tony and I…we probably smell alike, don’t we? If our scents were different, you would have noticed right away that Angie wasn’t our Evey…”

“Her scent _was_ slightly different. I just didn’t know why, at first. I mean, it’s Evey. She’s done weirder things than suddenly change her scent.” He paused briefly. “It was similar enough, though. Yeah, it might work,” he went on more confidently, “but there’s the omnipresent demonic stench to take into account…” He took a long whiff of polluted air, eyes closed.

“Well?” the Ripper prompted him. If Tony had been a Wolf, he probably could have smelled her impatience.

Ted didn’t open his eyes right away. He pointed to their left. “Demonic entity that way. I don’t know what it is, but it reeks of decay.” He pointed to the right. “Something that smells both vegetal and demonic. An evil plant, maybe. As for the path ahead…” He took another deep breath and finally opened his eyes. “The air smells slightly cleaner that way. I suggest we take it and reassess our options at the next crossroads.”

Oddly enough, the Ripper didn’t voice any protest. She began walking again, and the two men followed.

* * *

_Seven crossroads later_

“So, what did the prophecy say about me?” Ted asked with an offhanded air. The Ripper, as usual, was scouting ahead, despite the fact that it was Ted who was guiding them. She was probably out of earshot…but maybe not.

Tony gave him a sidelong glance. “I already told you – nothing.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” Ted countered with an amiable smile.

“How? I don’t have a heartbeat.”

Ted proceeded to demonstrate that hearty, booming laughter of his. “Ha! Good one, mate.”

“What do you mean?” Tony said, feeling somewhat offended. Being undead was no laughing matter.

“You’re a terrible liar. The worst, really. It's all over your face. Your body language, even the tone of your voice...”

Ted wasn’t trying to be insulting, Tony knew. He was merely stating a fact. Still, he couldn’t help but feel even more offended. He couldn’t be _that_ bad at lying. He’d always lied through his teeth when he was younger and dating women, sometimes several at once. They never seemed to notice. Or perhaps they never cared enough to point it out. “Alright, fine. It said something after each of us went through the portal. Well, not sure about myself, since I wasn’t there to hear it, but after each of _you_ went through.”

“And?” Ted prodded him.

“Do you really want to know? When I heard what the Questing Beast had to say about my promising future, I immediately wished I had not volunteered for the task. It’s a burden to know that sort of things… But I’ll tell you if you insist, of course.”

Ted appeared to hesitate. “How bad was it?” he murmured eventually.

“It was…neither good nor bad, really. But you know prophecies… They’re cryptic, and they rarely mean what we think they mean.”

“I guess you’re right. I’m better off not knowing. But what about _her_ prophecy? What do you think it means? You don’t suppose she’s going to abandon us here to become a demon, is she? That’d be crazy. Right? I know she has a tough exterior but, deep down, she’s quite sweet, isn’t she? She wouldn’t do that to me. Er, to us.”

Tony had initially thought he was imagining things, but this confirmed it: Ted had a crush on the Ripper.

A crush. On Jack the Ripper.

And there was a possibility, no matter how insane it may sound, that she actually liked him back, if their encounter with the succubus had taught them anything. Though it wouldn’t occur to Tony to mention it out loud, to either of them.

Especially not to Jack.

“That was my first thought,” Tony admitted. “That she might take Loki up on his offer.” Seeing the despondent look on Ted’s face, though, he quickly added: “She might have done that if she were here alone, but I don’t believe she will. She’s a lot of things, but she seems…reliable, at least. We hired her on a quest, and she’ll see it through, even if it annoys her to permanent death.”

After they returned Sirius safely home, though, he couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t be back in Pandemonium in the next few minutes to become a greater demon, mainly so she could boss around beings such as Set and Fenrir. And have demonic tea with Lilith.

Besides, Jack didn’t struck him as the sort of person who was interested in relationships of any kind, but especially not of the _romantic_ kind. Even if she liked Ted, she was not exactly girlfriend or wife material, was she? He certainly wouldn’t call her a friend, and barely dared to think of her as an acquaintance. In Tony’s mind, she was hired muscle, nothing more.

“Then it’ll be up to me to convince her to keep her day job of murdering poor mortals, eh?” Ted said.

“I do it at night, too, you know. It’s a full-time job. And they’re not ‘poor mortals’. Most of them are first-class arseholes, and quite rich at that. Just like the people who want them dead.”

Tony startled and looked around, but Jack wasn’t anywhere in sight. She sounded close, though.

“She’s on the other side of the hedge,” Ted explained. He pointed to their right.

“Did you know she was there?”

“Wasn’t really paying attention,” the Wolf muttered.

“Also," the Ripper went on, "not that it’s any of your business, but I do not intend to become a greater demon. Not yet, anyway. I’ve only been alive for a hundred years or so, I’d like to enjoy my immortal life on earth while I can. If the world ends in a couple of years, however…” She trailed off.

“You’re the one who said the demons were giving us visions to scare us off!” Tony complained. Come on, he’d almost managed to forget about _that_!

“Sure, sure…” Her voice sounded far away. She was probably circling around to join them. “But it’s good to have options, innit? You know, just in case.” She reappeared in front of them a moment later. “Which way now, Wolf?”

* * *

_Nineteen crossroads later_

They had avoided most of the multiple demonic entities that inhabited the maze, though they’d encountered a couple of minor demons – formless creatures that the Ripper had cut to pieces before Tony even got a good look at them. They’d had to cross what looked like a small pond of blood-like liquid, which turned out to be extremely corrosive. Ted had lost several toes before realising that it wasn’t safe to cross. Thankfully, the toes had grown back a minute later. Not so Ted’s shoe, but the Wolf didn’t seem to mind.

Tony had finally been able to demonstrate his magical skills. He’d turned the acid puddle into water – a very basic spell, but Ted, at least, looked impressed. Then Tony had opened the water in two separate parts, revealing a narrow passage of damp earth in the middle. The Ripper had simply rolled her eyes and marched ahead. “Fledgling thinks he’s bloody Noah,” Tony caught her mumbling. She probably meant either Moses or Jesus, or both, but he didn’t correct her. She didn’t care about technicalities, and Tony didn’t believe in Muggle religion, so he wasn’t offended by the remark or its lack of accuracy.

Ted guided them with his nose, which had proved to be a rather efficient compass so far.

Meanwhile, the Ripper enquired about all the things that Tony _couldn’t_ do. “Can’t you simply hack the hedges to bits, fledgling?” He’d replied that it would take him hours, perhaps days, given the size of the hedges, and they might tumble down and crush them besides. It wouldn't kill the Wolf or the Ancients, but they had to keep in mind that Sirius was with them, now. They had to be careful. The snack was fragile and extremely vulnerable.

“Can’t your wand point us north?” He’d actually tried that, but he explained that there _was_ no north, here in Pandemonium. “Can’t you put some sort of tracking spell on yourself and see if it leads to the…other you?” Tracking spells didn’t work on the (un)dead. A lot of magical spells failed with dead things and people, unless one was a master necromancer.

“Can’t you…what’s the spell for that… _Accio_ the others to our location?” the Ripper went on relentlessly.

“Magic can’t directly affect Ancients and Wolves,” Tony reminded her. Apparition worked on both, but it was one of the few tricks that did.

“Magic is fucking useless,” she snapped. “No wonder there were no wizards among us before you came along. You're hardly a prize.”

“Children,” Ted said chidingly, “play nice. I think we’re getting close, and I need to concentrate.”

“Someone who smells like me in the vicinity?” Tony asked, suddenly hopeful. He didn’t know how long they’d been wandering around, but it felt like days.

“Yes,” Ted said after a moment of hesitation. “I think so. I don’t know my own smell, so I can’t tell if my alter ego is there, too, but there’s another Ancient being nearby.”

“Must be that ‘Amy’ person,” Tony remarked.

Ted nodded. “Unfortunately,” he added with a sigh, “they’re not alone.”

* * *

It was another left, left, and right turn before they finally located the three people they were looking for.

They were caught in a gigantic spider web.

Tony had seen Acromentula webs before, in the Forbidden Forest, but this one was thrice as large as any he had ever seen. The silky, sticky threads were as thick as his thigh, and so interwoven that the web itself looked like a maze.

Tony wasn’t arachnophobic – unlike Evey – but still, he didn’t feel at ease as they walked into the centre of the maze.

Angie's Ted – aka Eddie – was the first to spot their rescuers. He must have caught their scent. He was clearly shocked to see them, either because he hadn’t expected to ever see a human again, or because he had recognised Ted’s face as his own. Or both.

He was gagged, but his surprise had caused him to move, and the web rippled slightly, drawing the attention of his companions. Angie’s husband and the pretty, short-haired Ancient lady both opened their eyes to stare incredulously at the newcomers.

The last one to notice their arrival was the web’s designer, who hung sleepily from another thread, high above them all.


	33. I find your wolfish grin…unsettling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: non-consensual kissing (very brief, not explicit).

_« Il est à noter que, lors du bannissement du démon Cherufe, le chant devra être repris à l’envers, autant de fois que nécessaire, par **trois** personnes, et non deux, comme lors de l’invocation. Tout manquement à cette règle peut avoir de graves conséquences, la plus commune étant que le démon invoqué, ou tout autre démon majeur nommément mentionné pendant le rituel et dont l’attention a donc été attirée, ne sera pas renvoyé dans l’Abîme. Il aura alors la possibilité de prendre possession de n’importe quelle personne présente dans la pièce au moment du bannissement, sans que cela ne soit immédiatement manifeste, ou de la tuer sans cérémonie et de la pire manière imaginable. » _– Pernelle Flamel’s personal notes on _Invocation et bannissement : un guide pratique pour les sorciers confirmés._

Evey walked into the garage, which had long ago become Tony’s workshop. It was as he’d left it: in a state of well-organised chaos – not unlike Evey’s dressing room. Or her desk. Walden often complained about how messy they both were, but the truth was that Evey and Tony knew exactly where everything was. They had a system, weird and illogical as it may seem to others, but it worked for them. Stranger still, Tony and Evey seemed to…understand each other’s chaos.

Malkoran had her back to her. His hands lay flat on Tony’s desk, his head was slightly bowed. He must have caught her scent, though, or heard her approach, because he turned as soon as the door closed behind her. He smiled at her warmly.

“Oh,” she said, taken aback. She’d expected a murderous expression. “I…thought you were mad. I mean angry,” she amended, mindful of his difficulties with the modern meaning of certain words. Although, in truth, she had no idea how modern this particular meaning was.

“Angry?” he repeated in a low, rumbling voice. It was deeper than ever. “How could I ever be angry with you?” He gestured for her to move closer, and she did. She was confused by his reaction, but she didn’t think twice about it. This was Mal, after all.

She stood near him, facing him, and twisted her hands, feeling ashamed. She’d done something very wrong, she knew that, but she hoped he would forgive her. His friendship meant more to her than he knew – especially with Tony and Ted gone, and Walden perpetually annoyed with her, or so it seemed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend-”

“Hush,” he murmured. He held a finger over her lips, then cupped her face gently with both hands. Evey tensed automatically. She didn’t like to be touched without the other person asking her permission first, or at least signalling their intention, and Mal had never done anything like this before. Usually, he displayed a need for personal space as much as Evey herself.

“It’s been so long,” Mal went on, moving even closer to her and bending until their faces almost touched. What the hell was he doing?

Kissing her.

That was what he was doing.

_Malkoran_ was _kissing_ her.

An alarm blared in Evey’s mind, reminding her that she was supposed to push him away. How long had it been since their lips had locked? One second? Five? Long enough that he believed she actually wanted this? She hoped not, because she most certainly did _not_. She finally regained control of her body, which had gone nearly limp with shock, and pushed his hands away from her face so that he would release her. She took several steps back, then quickly wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “What in the name of _Fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, invoking Fuck as if it were the Muggles’ made-up God and forgetting all about Hades – though she only “believed” in him because she knew him personally. She didn’t worship him or anything like that.

Why was she even thinking about this now? It was completely irrelevant. “Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you?” Her voice was high-pitched with indignation, which made her sound like a squeaky teenage boy. She hoped that it wouldn’t undermine her righteous anger. “I know I made a mistake with the serum, but nothing, and I mean _nothing_ , justifies you acting like the biggest twat in the universe! I mean, if Wal finds out-”

Oh, for pity’s sake! Why was this always her primary concern? _She_ was the wronged party here. She hadn’t asked for this. She didn’t want this. Mal had…raped her mouth. Walden’s feelings could be taken into account later; right now she wanted to understand what the hell was going on.

She couldn’t even begin to fathom how Mal had gone from being miffed and offended, barely ten minutes ago, to being…horny? Was it the thrill of the summoning ritual? Some sort of disturbing reaction to an adrenaline rush in his Wolf blood? Was it because of the Veritaserum?

Gods, was this her fault?

Malkoran was staring at her. He looked…puzzled. How was he the puzzled one in this situation? How had he expected her to react? Had she accidentally said or done something that caused him to believe that she wanted to be kissed by him? She honestly didn’t think so. She’d been very careful with the unconscious flirting since Estelle had pointed it out to her. Besides, they'd talked about this.

“You’re…you,” Mal said eventually. There definitely was puzzlement in his voice, but he sounded mainly disappointed.

Disappointed that she was herself? It didn’t make any sense. “I’m sorry,” Evey said in a biting tone, “did you take me for Estelle?”

He scratched his hair. “Um, no. Ah, this is awkward.”

“Awkward?” That was not the word Evey would have used to describe what had happened. “Mal, what is wrong with you?” she asked again. This time, though, she was worried rather than merely indignant. “Have you gone blind and deaf, have you lost your sense of smell? Did you seriously not know it was me?” She hesitated. “Do you even know who I am?”

If the Veritaserum proved to be the cause of this unpleasant development – namely, Mal losing his mind – she would never forgive herself. She hoped the damage wouldn’t be permanent, at least.

Mal was gazing into her eyes with unblinking intensity, like he did when he was in Alpha mode. “No, I… I knew it was you… As in, the human body of that Evangeline girl…”

That Evangeline girl?

His eyes never left hers, but he didn’t seem to _see_ her. “But I thought… The wife should have emerged at the same time I did… These rituals during which a subordinate manages to utter both of our names are rare opportunities for us to communicate in person, you see, but this ritual involved a Wolf and…well, you, so… I assumed…”

The wife?

Emerged?

Evey was beginning to puzzle out what had happened. There must have been an issue with the banishing part of the ritual...

Which meant that this wasn’t Malkoran. Had the Cherufe demon possessed him?

Evey would know it if she herself were being possessed, right? Or was there an unwelcome entity inside her, that was unable to interact with the other demon for some reason?

The man who looked like her friend but was being controlled by a demon continued talking, addressing her as if she were a complete stranger. “Obviously, I would have preferred Estelle’s body, she’s a lot more to my taste, but a mere mortal couldn’t host a being as powerful as my Lilith, not for long. I thought _you_ could, since you’re…you, but…well, apparently, that’s not good enough.”

Now Evey was offended, on top of everything else. Still confused, and now scared, but this was insulting. Demons were so _rude_. “Yes, well, you’re not to my taste, either,” she retorted. The comeback was lame, she heard it as soon as she said it, but her ego was pricked.

The demon looked down Mal’s body appreciatively, then looked back at her, an eyebrow raised. “Come on, he’s hot and you know it.”

Evey blushed, which annoyed her even more. “Look, you’ve had your fun, but you obviously got stood up by your…wife, so how about you leave my friend’s body now? If you don’t, I’ll…”

_I’ll what? Banish you with a chant I don’t know, let alone backwards? I’ll call Estelle?_ The witch didn’t have sensitive hearing, like most of Evey’s friends and acquaintances.

She did have a friend (of sorts) whom she could call with her mind, however.

_Hades? Little help here?_

For the first time since she’d met the god, she received no answer. Not a single sassy word, nothing.

The demon grinned with Mal’s face. It was a disturbing sight; it made him look…wolfish. “Nice try, but he’s not allowed to interfere in these situations. This may be his world, but he’s not the boss of me. The Council made that very clear.”

The Cherufe could read her mind? Oh, that was bad.

The demon growled. “Quit calling me that, you ignorant little girl. The Cherufe is but an underling. He couldn’t possess my Wolf. Even now, Malkoran is fighting for control, and I can barely suppress him. The Cherufe would have been expelled right away.”

_My Wolf._

Now Evey knew for certain that Malkoran would never forgive her. Not for drugging him, but for doing something that caused the demon he despised and feared to possess him. Did he know that this could happen? Was that why he’d been so reluctant for them to summon _any_ demon?

The demon cocked his head sideways. “I see you’ve finally puzzled it out,” he noted.

“You’re F-” Evey held back at the last moment. At last, she understood why Mal refused to say the demon’s name aloud.

“Oh, it’s too late, child,” Fenrir said, obviously amused. “I’m here now, and I intend to stay at least until I can find a suitable host for my-”

The door banged open and Estelle barged in, wand raised. Incongruously, Evey noticed that the woman was barefoot. Estelle shouted something in French, addressing the demon. Whatever it was, it made Fenrir laugh. “My delicious Estelle.” He laughed harder at the look of pure disgust on her face. “Come on, admit it: you’ve missed me.”

“For someone who claims that Lilith is the love of his life, you sure spend an awful lot of time dallying with us petty humans,” Estelle remarked, in English this time – either for Evey’s sake, or because Fenrir had used that language, though he clearly understood French. Almost certainly the latter, in Evey’s estimation.

Fenrir leered at them both. “Well, a demon has needs. Ideally, I would physically transfer Lilith to this plane of-”

“I was a child, last time,” Estelle interrupted him. “I was young, I was stupid. I was _reckless_. I know better now.”

_If you knew this could happen, why didn’t you warn us?_ Evey thought. _Why is Fenrir here at all?_

“If memory serves, your mommy had to come to your rescue…” Fenrir taunted Estelle. “Ah, fearsome Pernelle. You did us all a favour the day you despatched her to the Waiting Room. For that, I will make your death quick and…mostly painless. But only yours,” he added, winking at Evey. “I will take my time with this one. We went to a lot of trouble to make her, and it was all for nothing, apparently…”

“To _make_ me?” Evey repeated. “What does that mean?”

The demon sighed. “Do you know how many people like you exist, child? In this entire world?”

“People like me?” Another jolt of pure shock. How much more could she take before her brain short-circuited? “There are others?”

Fenrir nodded. “Only one, currently. A ninety-three-year-old Inuit woman from Nunavut. There have been forty-two of you in total since…well, since I made this one.” He patted Mal’s chest. “Centuries sometimes go by without a Tri-ling.”

“I’m not alone,” Evey said in a low voice.

“Mm, technically, yes, you are alone. You’re the only one whose powers we’ve managed to fully unlock. It was no easy feat,” he added.

“But how… I mean, what _am_ I? A Tri-ling, you said? What does that-”

“Part human, part Wolf, part Ancient,” Fenrir said impatiently. “The name speaks for itself, I should think,” he went on in a somewhat condescending tone.

Evey skipped over the demon’s condescension. “Right, but how do we exist at all? Malkoran and the Bloodmother never had children together. The Wolves and Ancients are all barren. How is it in my genes?”

Fenrir scoffed. “Genes? Girl, are you not a witch? A…Muggleborn one? Where did _that_ come from?”

Evey bit down on her lip. “I just assumed…a long-dead ancestor, maybe…”

“Nah. Magic isn’t in your genes, child. Don’t you people have a saying… ‘The wand chooses the wizard’, or something like that? Well, it also applies to magic that is demonic in essence. It chooses its host, and apparently it likes you more than it does others. That’s where the so-called ‘spark’ comes from, but you got the whole package. And that, at least, had nothing to do with us.”

“That woman, then, the other one like me… She’s not…”

“Grigori bit her,” Fenrir said. “At my request. It was…an experiment. But she never came close to any of the Ancients, let alone one who would bite her. She’s…no one, by their standards. Not distinguished enough. Just like you, granted, but your situation was different.”

“Different how?” Evey was so fascinated – a proper explanation, at last! A proper word for it! – that she’d pretty much forgotten what was happening: she was talking to a greater demon, _through_ her possessed friend, while Estelle, who wasn’t supposed to know about these things, listened on attentively.

Or so Evey had assumed.

As Fenrir was about to reply, Evey noticed that Estelle had traced a bloody pentagram on the garage floor, with her bare feet. She must have cut open one of her toes to do so. Her eyes were closed; she seemed to be chanting, but silently. What the hell was she doing? Trying to banish Fenrir, a greater demon, all on her own, when they’d failed to banish a measly Cherufe demon together, half an hour ago?

Fenrir realised that Evey’s gaze had strayed, and he turned to Estelle, smiling indulgently. “It’s too late, Estelle. You can’t force me out once I’ve taken residence, especially in such an adequate host. Only Malkoran himself can do that, but he’s not as tough as he likes to believe. So, unless you’re attempting to contact Father…” He snorted in derision to show them what he thought of _that_ idea. “It will only hasten your demise, my dear.”

Father. Fenrir’s father… Evey’s brain was in overdrive, to compensate for the fact that it was still reeling with new information and processing quite a few mind-blowing shocks.

Loki was Fenrir’s father, according to Norse mythology. But Loki was a god, not a demon… Unless he’d been demoted, like Set?

“Estelle,” Fenrir continued when the French woman ignored him. “You know I can’t actually wreak havoc in your world until the official manner and date of The End has been approved by the Council, yes? I only want to find my Lilith a new body, so we can live here together, unshackled, until-”

“ _How romantic_ ,” an ethereal voice said wryly. Estelle’s lips moved with the words, but she wasn’t the one talking. Her eyes were still closed.

Fenrir gasped in surprise. “You made it!” He ran to Estelle and hugged her. Estelle didn’t react. Fenrir held her eyelids open, but only the white could be seen. It was very creepy. “I didn’t think that Estelle could accommodate you. How long until she-”

“ _This is not a possession_ ,” the voice said. “ _Think of Estelle as a…telephone. I cannot come through._ ”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Fenrir assured her. “I’m working on that.”

“ _I forbid it_.”

“Forbid it? But why? We’re closer to each other today than we’ve been in…in…” He stuttered to a halt, unable to put a number on it.

“ _Fenrir, I cannot use portals outside of the Homeland, and my every move is monitored even inside of it. It’s part of my punishment… I cannot join you. Not in our world, nor in this one_. _We can never be together._ ”

“But at least let me try! I have found my Alpha. If we can find Ellessin…”

“ _I do not want that_. _I do not wish to spend eternity in someone else’s body, in the human world_ ,” Lilith said sharply. “ _What I want is revenge, my darling. Revenge on your father. Revenge on…You-Know-Who.”_ Evey speculated that she was not talking about Voldemort. Lord Noseless had never been half as terrifying as Lilith or Fenrir. Hell, Evey was more scared of _Estelle_ than Voldemort. “ _On all of them, for believing that they are better than us! For enslaving us and using us!”_

Fenrir held Estelle’s body close, hands on her upper arms, Mal’s eyes staring adoringly into hers, despite their current emptiness. Evey hoped that he wasn’t going to kiss her, too. She was perfectly aware that they weren’t themselves at the moment, but the idea of Mal and Estelle kissing was still highly disturbing.

“ _I want to be free again,_ ” Lilith went on. “ _I want us to rule the Homeland together, as it should be, while our children dominate the remaining earthly realms._ ” Remaining earthly realms? What did that even mean? “ _Come home. Leave the humans be. Be patient, for once. Their time is nearly over, but ours is about to begin. As The End nears, the Divines will weaken, then we shall seize our chance and demons shall dominate the entire universe! The revolution is underway, my dearest. Come and see for yourself. Join us. We are stronger together._ ”

Estelle’s plan wasn’t really working, in Evey’s opinion. Sure, Lilith seemed about to convince Fenrir to leave them alone…but at what cost? Tony was still in Pandemonium. What was happening over there? Lilith’s words sounded quite ominous.

“Patience was never my strong suit,” Fenrir murmured in Estelle’s ear. “But for you, my love…anything.” He cleared his throat, stroking Estelle’s cheek. “In the meantime, since we’re both here in the flesh, so to speak…”

“ _I am absolutely_ not _there in the flesh!_ ” Lilith barked. The angry tone was utterly at odds with Estelle’s slack face and absence of expression. “ _I am only able to hear you, Fenrir, and to speak to you, nothing more. Don’t you_ dare _… Not again. I know it’s easy for you to play with the humans, given the relative liberty your father has granted you, but let me remind you that I’m stuck here, all alone. It’s not_ fair _!”_

“Ugh, you sound like Ellessin,” Fenrir grumbled. “Like mother, like daughter, I guess.”

“ _I’m warning you…_ ”

“Fine, fine, I’ll wait for you. Patiently.” He released Estelle from his grip and took a step back, hands in the air like an armed robber caught in the act, though Evey didn’t think Lilith could see him.

“Also, can you tell him not to kiss me again, please?” Evey said tentatively. “That was gross.”

Fenrir threw her a…demonic glare. Estelle’s face didn’t change, but Lilith’s voice was strangled with wrath. “ _He did_ what _?!_ ”

“I thought she was you!” Fenrir exclaimed. “Lil, that was my plan all along! You’d be her, I’d be Malkoran, and then we’d-” He made an obscene gesture that, once again, Evey was certain Lilith couldn’t see. And that _she_ wished she couldn’t see.

“ _Are you out of your mind?_ ” Lilith raged. “ _Even if I could open portals, it would be impossible! She’s a Tri-ling, Fenrir. It’d be like trying to take control of a Divine.”_

Cool. Was Evey part god, too, then? Well, goddess… A Quadri-ling? Interesting.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fenrir snapped. “Nobody can be made into a god. It doesn’t work like that.”

“How does it-”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be working for Father,” Fenrir replied bitterly. “He’d be working for _me_. I’d never make the stupid mistake of being demoted after trying to alter the very fabric of the universe. For a _bet_.”

“ _Enough! Leave now, Fenrir, before you reveal secrets that aren’t yours to reveal, and worsen our punishment. Well, mine, at least, since you obviously benefit from preferential treatment.”_

Fenrir sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.”

“Don’t you need us to perform a ritual?” Evey asked. She pointed to Estelle’s improvised, poorly-drawn pentagram. “A better portal? Some chanting, candles…?”

The demon wearing Mal’s face gave her a sidelong glance. “You wanna know a little secret, Tri-ling?” he whispered conspiratorially.

Evey nodded without hesitation. Did anyone ever say “no” to that question?

“You don’t actually need a pentagram to summon a greater demon. Do you think Malkoran and his tart bothered with doodles in the sand?” He snorted in mockery of the silly doodling humans. “They didn’t even know what a pentagram _was_.”

“But…then how…?”

“We can open portals at will…as long as we follow the rules. You call us, we listen. If you call us just the right way, if we find you interesting, we might actually show up. But as you’ve learned quite recently, you better know exactly how to get rid of us when we do respond.” He grinned a wide grin which, once again, looked disturbing on Mal’s face. She wasn’t used to seeing him smile so often, or so…unnaturally.

“But doesn’t it mean that….the pentagram grants us zero protection, if it’s unnecessary? I thought the whole point-”

Fenrir roared with laughter. “Now you’re getting it! It’s efficient enough against minor demons, because they actually do require a pentagram to portal to your world, but it cannot stop the likes of me. Once you call out my name, all bets are off. The only reason why we don’t devour every single one of you is because it’s forbidden by the Council, unless-”

“ _Fenrir!_ ” Lilith insisted.

The demon turned toward Estelle, eyes lowered, head slightly bowed, like a dog cowering after being scolded by his owner. “Coming, my love.” He flashed one last smile in Evey’s direction, though. “You didn’t even ask about your friends in the Homeland! Aw, you’re gonna regret that in a second, when I van-”

Mal trailed off, mouth hanging open, eyes glazed over, and fell to the floor. Evey rushed to his side.

* * *

Someone was talking. Malkoran heard them as if they were far away.

“ _Mal? Mal! Can you hear me? Oh fuck, I killed him. Fuck!_ ”

Someone was taking his pulse – or trying to. They were fumbling with his wrist, applying pressure in the wrong place.

“ _Bloody hell! Hades, help! They’re gone now, please help. How do I resuscitate an immortal person?_ ”

Malkoran’s mind flashed with a name: _Evangeline_. He attempted to say the name aloud, but he seemed unable to speak. Or move. He could barely think. What had happened? Could she be right? _Was_ he dead?

“ _Come on! Of all the times you choose not to appear and assail me with sarcastic comments, you damned god! Mal, please, don’t be dead. The Bloodmother will kill me if you’re dead._ ” There was a pause. “ _Also, I’ll be sad, and I hate being sad. Crying makes my eyes puffy…_ ” Now the voice was barely audible. “ _Oh, fuck, what have I done?_ ”

There came another voice, stronger, sharper. “ _I’m fine, if anybody was wondering._ ”

_Estelle_ , Mal thought. If Estelle was alive, shouldn’t he be alive, too? He was immortal; she was not. He was the one who should have survived…

Fenrir.

That was what had happened. He’d encountered the demon again – sort of. It was not like they’d had a pleasant chat; Fenrir had taken full control of his body. Mal had struggled, he’d fought Fenrir with everything he had, but the demon was unstoppable. It was like taking candy from a baby. Mal had never felt so helpless and weak.

His head hurt. Or so he thought. His head had not hurt in…maybe ever. It wasn’t supposed to, not like that. Wolves didn’t suffer from mundane headaches. Though perhaps “mundane” was inadequate, given the situation. He felt another stab of pain between his eyes and grunted.

“ _Mal? Mal, was that you? Are you alright?_ ”

“ _Of course he’s not alright, you silly girl. He was possessed by a greater demon! A mere human would be vomiting blood by now, and would be dead in a minute._ ”

“ _That’s just a figure of speech, you…witch. Mal, can you open your eyes?_ ”

He tried, but his eyelids seemed to be glued shut. He tried to speak, but found his tongue lying like a large, dead slug in his mouth. There was a foul taste in his throat, as if he’d drunk spoiled milk. He was breathing, though, of that he was almost certain. His heart was beating – slowly, weakly, but it was.

“ _You think he’s in a coma?_ ” Evangeline’s voice asked worriedly.

“ _I think he’s pretending to be dead because he doesn’t want to face your annoying personality._ ”

“ _Well, Hades didn’t come, but you’re doing a great job at impersonating him_ ,” Evangeline grumbled.

“ _You know about Hades?_ ” Estelle’s voice was devoid of sarcasm now. She sounded genuinely surprised.

“About _him? I know him personally_ ,” Evangeline replied, quite smugly. “ _But seriously, what do we do?_ _Should we get him onto a bed and let him sleep it off?_ ”

Estelle exhaled loudly. “ _He’s not drunk. He just needs to regain control of...well, everything. It might take some time, but he’s a Wolf, he should be fine._ ” Her voice was closer now. “ _Mal, I think you can hear me, so here’s my advice: one limb at a time. Focus on your right hand first. Feel it, feel every finger, every knuckle. Try to clench your fist. Imagine strangling the demon with it, if it helps._ ”

It did help. His index finger was the first to give in. It bent with agonising slowness, but Mal could feel it move.

“ _It’s working!_ ” Evangeline exclaimed. “ _That’s great, Mal, keep at it._ ”

It took about half an hour for him to be able to sit up, and that with great difficulty. His eyes were open, but he still couldn’t speak.

“I’m so sorry, Mal. It’s all my fault,” Evangeline repeated for the tenth time.

Estelle rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter whose fault it was. It’s over now, we’re all alive. And we got the ingredient we needed.”

“Yeah, but I really messed up,” Evangeline insisted. “If not for the Veritaserum, maybe you could have fended Fenrir off.” Mal tried to pat her hand to reassure her – he really didn’t think that the potion could have affected him in such a way, if any – but she pulled it back as if she’d received an electric shock. She bit on her lip abashedly. “Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t… It’s just…” She was blushing now.

She must be remembering what Fenrir had done. Mal was certainly thinking about it. He’d watched it happen like a movie – given Evangeline’s expression at the time, a horror movie. He hadn’t really felt anything, physically, but her expression did hurt a bit. He wasn’t _that_ disgusting, surely. After all, when he’d kissed her, she wasn’t yet aware that Fenrir had taken possession of Mal’s body.

“I’m fine,” he finally managed to articulate. “It’s fine.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she took on an air of pure despondency. “It’s really not,” she murmured. “We haven’t even gotten to the worst part yet.”

Malkoran felt a cold shiver run down his spine. “What do you mean?”

Evangeline buried her face in her hands. “Now I have to tell Walden about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Sorry about the French part, it was too tempting. I pasted it on Google Translate and the English translation is surprisingly accurate, though, if you’re interested.]


End file.
